Chaos Theory
by pennwise
Summary: "She knew the Maze was sick, diseased. But after a while she'd managed to draw comfort in its walls because in a way, it protected them. It reminded her that they were never safe. The Creators were always watching, always listening, were always one step ahead of them. Amy had to remember that all of this was still a game. And they weren't on the winning side." NewtxOC.
1. prologue & welcome to the glade

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

* * *

 **present day—the glade**

"Gally, I am baking like cookie dough up here," a girl just a few years short of eighteen said.

Her age was debatable. She didn't have any other girls to compare herself to, but on average the estimate was that she was somewhere around sixteen. The only thing she was definitely aware of was that her name was Amy.

"Save some for me," the aforementioned boy, Gally, called up to her in retort. He was hardheaded and stubborn but also quite loveable if one possessed the will power and patience to dig deep enough below the surface.

Amy scowled.

"I hope you get salmonella," she shouted back, wincing at the sun's powerful rays, relentless and ever-burning against her neck and shoulder blades.

" _What?_ " Gally asked, sounding both confused at the word he clearly didn't know the meaning of but also annoyed at the fact that she wished some mysterious disease upon him.

"I don't know," she replied, adjusting the hammer in her dominant hand. Sweat was beginning to soak through her tank top, making her feel itchy and uncomfortable. "Isn't that what you get when you eat raw cookie dough or something?"

She didn't know how she knew that. She certainly hoped it wasn't from some horrible past experience.

"How the shuck should I know?" Gally squinted up at her, as if the conversation was beneath him and he was aggravated at her for not realizing it.

"I also hope we still have some sunscreen and aloe sitting around somewhere," she continued angrily, if not a bit accusingly. "Or else I'm going to get cancer from the sun's radiation and die and you're going to feel at least mildly guilty about it."

"Yeah, yeah," Gally waved her off. "I'll go look for some, princess. Just finish up the roof."

He spoke as if she were being dramatic and overreacting, as if a 'little sunburn couldn't hurt' whereas he was the one who'd slathered half the bottle all over his arms, shoulders and forehead a couple days ago and wasted one of the last bottles in their supply because he couldn't handle the heat. Since Amy was one, she was allowed to say that he handled the weather like a girl. Out of the two of them, she most certainly was not the princess.

Gritting her teeth and twitching her shoulders every now and then at the prickles of heat rash she felt on her hot skin, Amy finished closing up the tear in the roof. She didn't know where the tear came from. It's not like the Gladers spent their free time on top of the Homestead and she hadn't seen any Grievers around lately to puncture a hole in it.

She considered the possibility that maybe it was just getting old. It was coming up on three years now since the Homestead stood and while most buildings could stand for about a hundred times longer than that without fault, the Homestead was much more fragile in comparison to any modern day skyscrapers. The time would come eventually when it'd have to be reassembled – better – and the girl loathed to think of the possibility as she'd been there the first time it was built.

"Looking for something?" a voice called where Gally once stood, pulling her out of her reverie.

It was coated with an English infliction and Amy turned in the direction it came from, shielding her eyes. A blonde-haired boy stood, one hand on his hip with the other raised, grasping a familiar bottle between his long, thin fingers.

"Oh thank God," she breathed, edging herself backwards slowly and being mindful of the material beneath her knees. "Okay, I'm coming down!"

"But I quite like the view," she heard the smirk in the boy's voice and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Bite me."

"Maybe later."

Amy gave him a look that clearly said 'did you have to' before she swung her leg over the edge of the roof and began her descent down the wooden ladder.

She was proud of all they had accomplished; proud of the fact that they were able to create their own tools, make and grow their own food, and essentially survive on their own.

Of course, there were supplies the Box sent up once a week. Things they couldn't possibly build but were still a necessity to live. Med kits, iron weapons, flint and steel, the like. In all actuality they probably could have created their own medical equipment but none of them knew how to make medicine. Surely there was a book somewhere on the history of medication and what medicinal plants the Ancient Egyptians used or maybe the Greeks or whoever. But frankly none of them were too quick to request it from the Box. Why go through the trouble of trying to make everything by hand when it could already be done for them? Not to mention correctly.

She couldn't imagine entrusting Frypan to whip up a concoction for a headache. It would probably initiate more symptoms than the original ailment.

The land had come equipped with forestry and livestock but the rest was up to them. Upon first arriving at the Glade, she had asked wearily why they needed weapons. She was under the impression that she'd been sent up there to fight one of the boys to the death maybe, or be chased by crazy people through the woods with nothing but a small dagger and her wits. But once she was introduced to the animal pen, she put two and two together and understood that they had to make their own food.

She was relieved that she didn't suffer from any immediate danger in the near future but she felt just as bad for the animals. After a while though she'd become desensitized to it, like everyone eventually did. They needed to eat and none were so stubborn that they'd try to live on only crops, fruits and nuts. She had tried of course (she had the sense that she wasn't a vegetarian in her past life, but it was different when she saw the animals she'd be putting in her mouth on a daily basis) but hadn't lasted more than a few days.

But yes, she was proud of them. They weren't ideal circumstances but they made due with the fortune they had – what little fortune they had – and who could fault them for that? But maybe it was because she was a Builder. By default she felt immensely proud of anything that had to be created by hand.

"Did you get this from Gally?" she asked, snatching the bottle out of the blonde boy's hand.

"No," he furrowed his brows as they made their way to the water spigot. "I figured you'd need it and I had some free time."

"Be still my heart," she placed a hand over her chest. "You do care."

Rolling her eyes inwardly, she assumed Gally had no intentions of bringing her the lotion. What a slint. She rubbed the sunscreen across her burnt skin, wincing at the sensitivity. The sun had got her good.

"I try not to but you just keep weaseling your way back in."

"I have that effect on people."

The two exchanged easy grins as they approached the spigot. She drained a few large gulps before sticking her head underneath the faucet to cool her down. The cold water made her gasp at the sudden contrast of temperature on her scorching skin.

"Is it lunch time yet?" she asked rhetorically, wiping her eyes and wringing her hair out. It sounded like a monster was living inside her stomach as it gurgled and growled.

The blonde, who went by the name of Newt, raised his eyebrows at the sound.

"Is the spawn of Satan in your stomach?" he retorted, ignoring her question.

They made their way towards the sitting area near the kitchens, perching on a table underneath the awning. Her skin was ever grateful as it was finally able to breathe.

"I don't know, maybe," she said casually, too relieved by the shade to come up with a witty response.

The alluring scent of food floated through the air tempting their noses and her stomach growled angrily again.

Newt threw his long legs over the bench, leaning back against the table with his elbows resting behind him. He tossed his head back, exposing his slender, pale neck that glistened with beads of sweat.

"Bloody hell it's _hot_ ," he moaned as another wave of heat rolled in.

Amy was always entertained when she talked to him. He was so delightfully British and he said 'bloody' a lot which she could appreciate. His voice was smooth and he punctuated his words with an air of maturity that most of the kids around them didn't possess. It was a surprising contrast to his age, though being second-in-command placed a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. More often than not Newt was the voice of reason when things got out of hand and he cared a lot about the Glade and everyone in it even if he sometimes didn't like to show it. It made him seem wise beyond his years and sometimes it was easy to forget that he was only sixteen. Well, _maybe_ sixteen.

Many of the Gladers were starting to congregate around the kitchen, leaving their posts for the time being to get some grub. Newt and Amy remained at the table, waiting for the crowd to disperse.

It wasn't uncommon to see the two of them together. Amy had somehow grown close to Newt (though she'd arguably grown close to everyone), probably because he was the one to drag her out of the Box when she first arrived in the Glade however many years ago it was. He explained everything to her, helped her make sense of a world that essentially made no sense at all. He was patient with her when the overload of information became too much, but he also pushed her to see reason when she fell into a panicked denial.

Tough love was important in the Glade and even though Newt hadn't perfected it quite like Alby had, he was still able to slap some sense into Amy when she needed him to. Even still, nearly three years later she had questions. Sometimes neither Newt nor Alby could answer them but at least Newt admitted he didn't know. It made her feel better knowing she wasn't the only clueless one.

It'd become a habit of hers during her first couple of days in the Glade to find Newt whenever she needed help. There was this link of trust that formed between the two of them that she couldn't sever and at first it embarrassed her how often she went looking for him. And sometimes she didn't even need answers. She just wanted to be near someone, to feel them sitting beside her and to assure her that at least she wasn't alone.

There were nights when he would just rest beside her hammock, knees pulled into his chest, and the steady breaths he took would lull her into some form of security. No one ever questioned it. Most Greenies never found sleep their first few nights and though most would never admit it, they'd asked someone at least once to guard their sleep. Just for peace of mind. They weren't faulted for it because everyone understood.

It had become routine for him to follow her to her hammock and curl up on the ground at the head of it, as close as he could be. Sometimes they'd talk, sometimes they wouldn't say anything at all. Occasionally she'd fall asleep immediately from a rough day of Keeper's training, others she would chase sleep all night to no avail. Chances were if she didn't get sleep, he wouldn't either. Amy felt horrible for depriving the boy of rest, but she couldn't bring herself to send him away. He didn't chastise her for her tears, didn't condemn her for being scared. No one did. Because they'd all been there before.

Amy had no idea she could be so thankful for another person. She didn't know whether to be frightened or relieved that she had someone to depend on. She was afraid of appearing weak in front of the boys, as if she had something to prove for being a girl, but he accepted the fact that sometimes she just needed someone to hold her hand and walk her through the rough patches. Newt was her best friend, in every essence of the term. He was her person. Somehow, over time, he'd molded himself into her other half.

But it wasn't only one-sided.

She was there when he needed a shoulder to lean on. Everyone broke down at some point and there were those rare days when Newt never wanted to leave his cot because his mind was consumed with night terrors or his leg was giving him fits and he couldn't stand. He'd never admit to needing help, but he also never had to. She knew.

So Amy and Newt were sort of a package deal. Where one was, the other wasn't far behind.

Everyone had their person. Newt was hers, and she was his.

Another very important thing in the Glade was to have a companion you could rely on when the days grew cold, someone that could tether you back to Earth and give you a beacon of light in all the darkness.

* * *

 **day one** **—** **three years ago**

A shocked gasp echoed in the shuddering elevator.

One minute she was nothing and the next she was struggling to breathe as she awoke on something hard and cold. Her eyes struggled to make sense of her surroundings but her brain was muggy and disoriented as it tried to regain full consciousness.

The area was dark and it took her a few minutes for her sight to adjust. Her body felt sluggish as she tried to prop herself up on her knees. Whatever was below her felt metallic and rough. There was a bulb on the far corner of the room and it emitted a soft, eerie red glow that set her fear into overdrive. Where was she? How did she get here?

 _Who_ was she?

She felt panicked as she tried to dredge up some logical explanation. Had she been kidnapped? She couldn't remember anything that led up to where she was now. Was she drugged?

She coughed and pushed herself away from the floor and into the far wall, feeling a rattle as her back made contact. Was she in a cage? The air felt thick and humid and the vague scent of oil made her stomach churn. She tried abandoning her sight in favor of using her other senses and felt along the walls. Also metallic but not completely solid. There were small holes in the walls like a crate. The first thing that came to her mind was the cage fishermen tossed overboard to catch crabs.

It troubled her to think that she was the crab.

There was a loud bang as the cage whirred to life and abruptly began to lift, gears winding and cranking to life from all sides. She yelped, pushing herself into a corner. Her eyes were able to catch vague movement through the holes of the cage and she understood that she was in some sort of elevator shaft. She glanced upward to no avail, unable to see anything above her. Where did the shaft lead to? Was there going to be someone waiting for her at the top?

She waited, breathing heavily as she tried to steady her heart. Her eyes burned as tears threatened to escape but she swallowed them down, afraid that if she started crying she wouldn't be able to stop. She needed to remain calm and distract herself. Keep active.

She continued moving her hands around, tracing the edges of the cage and following the creases until something solid blocked her path. She examined what seemed to be two wooden crates stacked one on top of the other. She could just make out their silhouettes and found they weren't very big. There seemed to be some text printed on their sides but the red light wasn't strong enough to fully reach her side of the cage for her to make out anything legible.

Blinking, she trained her gaze across from her and noticed a few shadows resting beneath the red glow and assumed they were more boxes she wouldn't know the purpose of. Exhaling slowly, she lifted her head and tried looking for signs of anything above her but again was met with nothing but blackness.

How long had she been moving?

Two minutes? Twenty?

She didn't know. Time seemed to have no meaning inside the cage and she was helpless. She brought her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes and wiping away the wetness. Her fingers grazed something soft and she paused, realizing it was hair. She carefully ran her fingers through it, lip quivering as she realized she had no idea what it looked like or what color it was. It seemed to reach just below her shoulder blades and was slightly wavy, also thick and coarse.

She then tried to map out her own face, fingers tracing the rounded cheekbones and the curve of her nose. It was small but pronounced, pointing outward from the level bridge of her nose. Her lips were average-sized she assumed, with her lower lip slightly larger than her upper one but her cupid's bow was prominent and sharp. Her fingers dipped slightly at her chin and she discovered she had a slight dimple there.

Changing course, she moved upward. Her eyes were a nice distance apart, maybe about an inch and a half of space between them. She had no idea if her eyelashes were considered long or not but they tickled her fingers. Her forehead was bare, indicating that she didn't have a fringe and it felt like her hair was parted down the middle at an uneven angle.

Her mind wasn't able to conjure up a decent image of what she may have looked like. She didn't know if her skin was light or dark, didn't know the color of her eyes or if she had any freckles. She was both nameless and faceless.

Did she even have an identity to begin with? Was she alone in the world? Did she belong to someone? Parents, a partner? How old was she? Did she go to school, did she work? What was her favorite food? Did she have any ambitions?

She wanted to pull her hair out and her fingers tugged at her scalp, shaking her head back and forth at the onslaught of questions her mind was bombarded with. Who could do this? Who made her this way?

Suddenly the cage shuddered and her breathing hitched, noticing light flooding into the cage from above. She squinted up at it, realizing she had reached a set of double doors and for a moment she wondered hauntingly if the cage wouldn't stop and she'd burst through them. But the cage shakily slowed to a halt, squeaking as the brakes were activated, and then all was silent.

All she could hear was the sound of her ragged breathing and the blood pumping in her ears as her heart thumped hard against her ribcage. She waited for something, anything, to happen but it remained disturbingly quiet. She had a frightening thought that maybe she was just going to be left there until she starved to death.

Then in the blink of an eye the doors burst open and in poured light that nearly rendered her blind.

She winced and shielded her eyes, feeling the painful strain as she waited for her eyes to readjust. There were black dots clouding her vision near the surface where the light was coming in and it took a moment for her to focus in on the shapes and realize they were human.

 _The fishermen._

She swallowed thickly and she heard a fresh cacophony of murmurs as they stared down at her without really seeing. One of the boys, tall and lanky with tousled blonde hair knelt down and unlatched the top of the cage, exposing her fully to the strangers that eyed her like a hawk.

"Is that a girl?"

"Nah man, can't be. Just a really feminine guy."

"That's some long hair you got there, shank."

"Hey Greenie, did you forget your makeup bag?"

There were snickers and she furrowed her eyebrows, the clearly male voices ringing dumbly in her ears.

Despite her nervousness she idly wondered why they were so surprised to see a girl. She knew she was a girl, there was no mistaking it. Did she suddenly live in a world where females didn't exist? How preposterous was that? Then an intensely disconcerting feeling of dread settled heavily in the pit of her stomach at the thought of being the only girl amongst a group of seemingly teenage boys.

The blonde-haired boy jumped down into the cage with her and it rattled from his weight. She backed as far away from him as she possibly could, immediately distrusting. He squinted at her, eyes narrowed as he drank in the sight of her as if he'd never seen anything like her before.

"Slim it, you shuckheads!" he hollered up at them when their chattering continued, sounding annoyed. He carefully stepped closer to her to get a better view, holding his hands up in a pacifying manner as if afraid she'd pounce. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," he told her. His voice was coated thickly with an English accent. He seemed dumbfounded as he looked her over once more. "You really are a girl," he murmured disbelievingly.

She wasn't sure if she should be offended or not by his surprise.

"It _is_ a girl," he finally called up to the group of boys and they chattered amongst themselves, seeming both pleasantly surprised but also unconventionally worried.

She bit her lip, trying to fold as much into herself as she possibly could, wrapping her arms around her knees and pulling them into her chest.

"Hey, you're alright," he said quietly, calmly. He edged forward a bit awkwardly, like he wasn't sure how to handle her. He knelt down, readjusting himself into a crouch and favoring his right leg. She eyed him warily. "My name's Newt," he gestured towards himself as if she needed verification. "Do you remember your name?"

She furrowed her eyebrows and clenched her jaw, a wave of sadness hitting her like a ton of bricks. Mutely, she shook her head.

"Alright," he said softly. "Don't worry about that, it'll come back to you. I promise. Let's just take this one step at a time, yeah?" Newt reached out a hand to her, not attempting to move any closer and ultimately leaving it up to her whether or not she chose to take it. "It's okay, I promise none of us are going to hurt you. But you might be a bit more comfortable if you're not stuck in this thing."

She kept her eyes skeptically on his hand, unsure if she should accept it. She trailed her gaze up to his face and upon first glance there wasn't anything intimidating or mistrusting about it. She had a feeling that if she didn't follow him out she'd eventually be dragged kicking and screaming anyway and that was the last thing she wanted.

Cautiously, she unraveled herself and hesitantly reached a hand forward to place it in his larger, rougher one.

"That's it, come on."

He helped lift her to her feet and she wobbled slightly at being upright after so long of sitting. Newt kept a tight hold of her hand as she regained her balance. Finally standing straight, she realized that she wasn't much shorter than him and that she was fairly tall. Her nose reached just a hair above his chin.

He led her to the side of the cage where a boy with dark skin reached down and held out his hands for her to take. Wary again, she glanced at Newt out of the corner of her eye and he nodded his head slightly, motioning her onward. Returning forward, she took the boy's outstretched hands and Newt placed his own on her waist. Together, the two of them lifted her out of the cage and onto solid ground.

She squinted again, feeling the heat of the open air as she looked from side to side, eyes catching a vast field of greenery. That's not what startled her though.

Surrounding them on all four sides stood a wall, extending as high as the eye could see, nearly disappearing into the blue, cloudless sky above.

Wherever they were, they were imprisoned. She felt the claustrophobia she never realized she had gnawing at the deep recesses of her brain, making her skin crawl. She had to swallow the bile rising up in her throat. She couldn't panic.

Newt pulled himself up out of the cage and the doors closed with a piercing _clang_ that made her jump nearly a foot in the air, as if the cage had been waiting for them to leave. He offered her his hand again and she warily allowed him to help her up.

The boy with the dark skin who helped pull her out of the cage spoke in a deep, commanding voice.

"Get the supplies out of there before they pull the Box back down!"

In response a few of the guys re-opened the cage doors and clambered inside as if it were something so casual and fleeting that it didn't register to them how horrified she'd felt being trapped inside it seconds ago. The boy then turned his attention to her.

"I'm Alby. Nick usually greets the newbies but he's caught up right now so you're gonna have to settle with me," Alby tilted his head. "Welcome to the Glade, Greenie."

* * *

 **I know, I know. She has another story. Time to riot in the streets. Don't blame this one on me. Blame it on The Death Cure because I'd been doing just fine not being obsessed with TMR until I saw TDC in theaters and I lost my freaking mind. I actually had this story posted a long time ago but took it down because I didn't have much time to work on it. I've been revamping it ever since I saw TDC and I couldn't resist posting it back up after like two years of not touching it. That's why it may seem familiar to some of you.**

 **I'm going to keep this short but basically I already have eleven chapters written but I'm going to pace myself and update slowly. I may post chapter two relatively quick though to give you guys an idea of what the story is going to be like. I'm taking bits and pieces from both the movies and the books and the rest I'm just making it up as I go. I've seen the movies more recently than I've read the books so chances are the story is going to be heavily influenced by the films. I almost just wanted to cut out all of the first movie and jump right into The Scorch Trials but I'd already written so much of them in the maze that it just felt wrong to skip over it. So here we go. As always, comments and criticism are always welcome. Thanks for listening to me rant.**


	2. day one

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

* * *

 **day one** **—** **three years ago**

She tried to absorb his words in a reasonable fashion but none of them made sense.

She was able to connect the dots and assumed the boxes that were placed in the cage with her were supplies for them, but everything else she couldn't wrap her head around.

Her eyes followed his line of sight as he gestured towards 'the Glade'. At one corner there was a garden full of ripe vegetables, crops, and ever-growing fruit trees. Along the way was a wooden shack looking to have seen better days and a half-constructed building nearly double its size resting alongside it consisting of various sticks and branches that held it together.

She recognized a few hammocks strewn about a few meters from the building, an awning resting precariously above them as makeshift protection against the weather. Some of them appeared sun bleached. A ways away from them was another shack, a bit red in color and also appearing only half finished near a pen of pigs, sheep, and cows that were contently grazing on what little grass they had at their disposal.

She felt a little sick as she took everything in. This was all they had.

"Newt's gonna take you to get some food and water. Don't want your little shuck head exploding from all the information," Alby's words tore through her thoughts. "Just get some rest and Nick'll give you the tour later. Let's go, boys."

He didn't seem nearly as surprised as everyone else that she wasn't a boy. But he also may have had a spectacular way of hiding it. She felt relieved that he was at least treating her normally – or as normal as one could in a situation that could definitely not be defined as normal – not seeming to find any reason to speak to her any differently than he did everyone else.

The boys followed along obediently behind him, hefting the supply boxes into their arms. A few of the other guys, all varying in size and stature, continued eyeing her as they trailed behind them while quietly talking amongst themselves. No one spoke to her and she was perfectly fine with that.

Soon it was only her and Newt that were left. She self-consciously crossed her arms over chest tightly, feeling out of place. She could feel the boy's eyes on her a few seconds before he approached her and nudged her with his elbow, continuing to keep a respectable distance between them.

"C'mon," he said quietly, as if afraid he'd spook her if he spoke too loud. "I'm sure you're hungry."

She didn't say anything and he accepted her silence with a slight nod and began walking towards the shacks.

Glancing every which way, she eventually trailed after him a few paces behind, watching everything around her and trying to take it all in. She just couldn't understand the purpose. Why were they there? Who chose them? Did she even have a life before this? She wanted to voice her questions out loud but part of her was too afraid of the answers to try. Maybe it was best if she just kept quiet and got some food in her stomach as Alby said, not that she particularly felt hungry. Her stomach was still churning uneasily.

"This is the kitchen," Newt said as they approached a single shack not far from the animal pens. "It's not much, but."

He cut his words short, gesturing obviously to the small hut as if he didn't need to explain.

She agreed, there wasn't very much to it. They didn't exactly lead a life of luxury, not that she really expected them to. There seemed to be a small opening somewhere along the roof as smoke rose from within and she could smell the familiar, mouth-watering scent of bacon. In the back of her head she wondered if it was safe to cook inside something that naturally attracted fire.

"Hey Fry," Newt called, leaning against the makeshift counter outside the hut's entrance. "Got anything cooked? Greenie needs some food, don't know how long it's been since the bastards fed her."

Her eyebrows rose at this, ears perking up. Who was he talking about? Did he know her captors?

"Just a mo'," a voice called back in return.

There was a pause and she shuffled her feet awkwardly as Newt watched her with interest, continuing to lean against the counter. He was tracing his lips with his fingertips absently, probably doing it without even thinking, and she found the movement quite distracting so she looked away, feeling her cheeks grow hot. In this new life, being around boys was very alienating to her. She had no doubt it was due to the fact that she was the only girl there, which was something she desperately wanted to question them about but was too afraid to ask.

Newt's voice cut through the air that had grown thick between them.

"Just wait 'til you try his bacon," he said, attempting to sound casual. "Surprisingly it's the best damn thing he makes. Sometimes I wonder if the slint has it in for us with the slop he cooks up," Newt chuckled to himself.

His comment didn't sound offensive but more so affectionate and that puzzled her. She knew she'd been around people, understood their emotions and why they said the things they did, but with her memory wiped clean it was like her mind was trying to catch up with their meanings and idiosyncrasies.

"I don't think I'm hungry," she replied quietly, rubbing her arms.

He furrowed his eyebrows in something akin to concern.

"You really should eat something," he told her. "I know it's hard to take all this in but trust me when I say you'll regret it later if you don't eat something. Last Greenie passed out when he didn't eat."

She didn't want to pass out.

"What did you mean when you said you didn't know how long it'd been since I was fed?" she felt encouraged enough to ask. "Who were you talking about?"

Newt pursed his lips and returned to his previous activity of watching her closely, like he was trying to examine her from the inside out. It made her feel exposed beneath his gaze.

"We call them the Creators," he eventually said. "Dunno who they are, never seem 'em before, but they're the ones who send up the supplies in the Box. And they're also the ones who send you," she was correct in her previous assumption that she didn't want to know the answers. "Every month they send up a new Greenie. And most of the time they're either dehydrated, hungry, or sleep-deprived. Or a combination of the three. My guess is it's because of the process of wiping our memories."

His words were bitter and she could feel anger pooling in her belly. Hearing it from Newt made everything seem so real. She had been kidnapped, or at least forced against her will to have her memories taken away. But why? What purpose did it serve?

"Order up," a boy said jovially, voice echoing from inside the shack. He made his way out the door, dark-skinned much like Alby with a kind grin. He stopped short when his eyes met hers. "Holy shuck, you're a girl."

"I did say _her_ , didn't I?" Newt countered sarcastically.

The boy seemed lost for words. "I—has Nick said anything about this?" he asked Newt carefully, who shrugged in response.

"He hasn't even met her yet. Probably at the next Council he will, or Alby."

"Right," the boy, Fry, seemed skeptical but appeared to cover up his suspicion with a half grin as he faced her. He placed a small plate on the counter, offering it to her. "Well, my name's Frypan, Keeper of the Kitchen. What's yours, Greenie?" Newt shook his head pointedly in response even though he hadn't been asked and Frypan eyed him out of the corner of his eye before stuttering, "I mean… ahh, nevermind. Eat up."

Before she had a chance to react, Frypan disappeared back into his shack and she could hear the faint sizzling of greasy food upon a stovetop. She took a tentative step forward, uncomfortable that she had an audience. She paused near the counter and faced Newt, wringing her fingers together anxiously.

"Why does everyone keep calling me 'Greenie'?" she asked.

Newt smirked out of the corner of his mouth. "It's just what we call the newbies. Don't worry about it, love. Now eat, it's delicious."

She licked her lips and glanced down at the plate. It was decorated with a few pieces of bacon, some eggs and what looked like fried potatoes. It did smell very good. She grabbed one of the slices of bacon, remembering what Newt said, and took a small bite. It was a combination of sweet and smokey and she quickly finished the slice and went in for another much to Newt's amusement.

"Atta girl," he chuckled. "You'll fit right in. C'mon, let's go sit down and I'll grab you some water."

She didn't protest and followed him to a small clearing near the entrance of the forestry that housed the back end of the Glade. Newt motioned to a tree trunk and she silently took a seat while he retrieved her a cup of water. When he returned, he leaned up against the tree next to her and she ate in silence while he kept his gaze ahead, eyes following the Gladers as they worked in their own respective areas.

She enjoyed the peace and quiet while it lasted, feeling an aching throb in her temples. Her stomach felt sated when she finished her food and she quietly thanked Newt as she took a sip of her half empty water.

"Nick is out running right now," Newt told her, giving the word an air of importance rather than a simple verb. "He won't be back until tonight so you probably won't get the grand tour 'til tomorrow. You'll both be tired and it'll be dark by then anyway." At the confused look on her face he explained, "Nick is kind of our leader. Alby's his second-in-command. We've established order here to try and keep the peace."

"How long have you guys been here?" she asked, bringing her knees back into her chest again.

"Couple months," he answered, resting an arm on his knee. "At the beginning there were thirty kids who were brought here all at once. Nick and Alby were with them. A lot of them panicked, didn't know what to do. Most of 'em didn't survive the first couple of weeks."

The fear returned to her, settling harshly in her chest. "What happened to them?"

"The maze," he answered. She didn't understand but he must've expected that. "Nick will explain it all to you tomorrow. But since then we've learned from their mistakes. That's why there's an order. Nick and Alby have been here the longest and there's only a handful of originals left."

She rubbed her hands along her legs, deep in thought and trying to not let the terror ensnare her completely. She looked at him carefully.

"What about you? When did you get here?"

Newt sighed and leaned his head back against the trunk, gazing off into the distance.

"Five months ago," he told her. "Every month, the Box sends up a new Greenie. Every week, it sends up supplies. Exactly five months ago today I was in the same position you are," he glanced over at her, eyes boring into hers with some sort of meaning she figured she was supposed to understand. "I know you're scared," he said and she absently rubbed her hands against the material of her pants again. Yes, she was scared. "I know this is a lot to take in and I know you have questions. But it'll get easier. Not better, but easier. Just takes time."

"Does it ever start to make sense?" she asked. She felt like her mind needed some sort of logical explanation for her to be able to accept any of this. What she saw, what she was told.

Newt stared at her for a moment, dark eyes searching hers.

"No," he said finally.

She wasn't surprised.

They sat there for a few more moments in companionable silence. The sky was steadily beginning to darken as the Glade welcomed dusk. There was a bit of commotion by the eastern wall close to where she'd come up in the 'Box', as Newt had called it. She hadn't given much thought to the walls, almost afraid to think too hard on them and what they could mean. They were trapping them in and for the moment that's all she needed to know.

There were a few small figures jogging in from between two of the walls. She sat up slightly, realizing that they must have come from within the walls. Newt had mentioned a maze and she wasn't so dense that she wasn't able to put two and two together. She pondered this for a minute or two, unwilling to jump right into questioning Newt when she wasn't even sure what to ask.

Then suddenly there was a horrible, rumbling groan that emitted from where the figures had just emerged. She jumped slightly in her spot, feeling Newt's eyes on her as he gauged her reaction.

She watched the walls carefully, squinting a bit in the darkness. People were just now beginning to light torches and it was disorienting her view to see past them. But she saw enough to understand that the boys had just ran through a set of doors and those doors were beginning to close, whining and grating against her ears as they moved.

She had no words.

Newt saw how the maze doors had rendered her speechless and said quietly, "They close every night."

"Why?" she asked, a bit breathlessly. The thought made her uneasy. "Why would they need to close unless they wanted to keep us in?" Then she had a horrible thought. "Or if they want to keep something out."

Newt's lack of response set her on edge.

"Is there something out there?" she asked shakily. "Is there something even the Creators want to keep out?"

The boy was beginning to look too serious for comfort and she took his stoic expression as a bad sign.

"It's getting late," he avoided her questions. "C'mon, I'll show you where you're sleeping."

She pursed her lips in silent irritation. She wasn't sure if she was particularly angry with him for not answering her, as she was most certain she didn't want to hear what he had to say. But at the same time she was desperate for reasoning. She didn't want to be left in the dark while everyone around her remained secretive and mysterious. It only frightened her more.

"Newt…," she began, only to be interrupted.

"You'll know when you need to," he snipped, voice suddenly masked with animosity and not at all warm and welcoming like it had been.

Shocked, she snapped her mouth shut. Wordlessly he motioned her to follow him with a tilt of his head and she carefully pushed herself up and away from the tree's trunk, eyeing the blonde warily with slight contempt. As anxious as she was already she didn't have room to handle someone's hostility along with it. She had enough emotional baggage to weigh her down for a lifetime.

She followed Newt between the kitchen and the half-finished red building that stood guard over the animal pens. Fire danced along the ground in their wake as they traipsed through the high grass of the gardens, side-stepping various kids as they did so. A few greeted Newt amicably but all she was welcomed with were stares she couldn't read.

Eventually they approached the set of hammocks she'd seen strewn between the trees earlier. No one was around as of yet as they all seemed to have been congregating near the large hut a few paces to the left of them. He guided her through the swarm of hammocks until he reached one that was relatively empty around it aside from a set of blankets and other miscellaneous items she figured someone had gathered for her earlier.

"Slim it and get some rest," he told her, voice gravely and low as if to not disturb the air around them. "You'll thank me later for it. Give that shuck brain of yours a chance to breathe."

She gazed down at the hammock, eyes following the knots tied strongly with precision on each end. Her fingers grazed the rough material and she wondered idly how she'd ever be able to sleep on it comfortably without falling off.

"If you need anything I'll be in there," he pointed towards the large hut where most of the Gladers remained. "That's where I sleep most of the time. Nick and Alby are in there too."

She nodded, wringing her fingers together again out of habit. Part of her wanted to bitterly not say anything to him at all and not give him the satisfaction after he'd snapped at her, but she also knew she'd feel too guilty if she didn't at least thank him for the food and sitting with her. So she swallowed her pride.

"Thank you," she said, leaving it up for interpretation as to what for.

He accepted it as a whole with a shrug of his shoulder.

"Yeah, anytime." That half smile of his returned. "Get some sleep."

With that he backed out from under the canopy and ambled his way towards the crowd of boys that were muffled in the distance, waving their glowing torches about wildly as they laughed and talked amongst themselves like they didn't have a care in the world.

It was as if they were on a different wavelength than her, in a world that wasn't so corrupted even though they were just as confined inside the walls as she was. While she didn't know any of them personally, she still felt extremely left out and vulnerable. She didn't want to be alone but at the same time she didn't want to talk either. She wasn't even sure she knew what she wanted.

Relenting, she sighed and bent over to pick up one of the blankets. It wasn't cold outside; there was a comfortable breeze but nothing that constituted the physical need of warmth. But somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she knew she'd feel safer if she covered up. As if the blanket were a shield that could protect her from harm. She unwrapped it, feeling its scratchy material against her fingers and wondering if it had ever been used. She hoped over time it would soften up and not feel so stiff.

She sat herself down on the hammock, pausing for a moment before she swung her legs up and covered herself with the blanket. She rested her head on the other folded blanket, using it as pillow. Already she could feel her neck protesting at the angle.

She exhaled slowly, allowing her eyes to wander without really seeing anything. She watched the figures dance in the distance, hazy and blurry as her eyes focused and unfocused. She felt physically drained and her mind was tired but she knew sleep wouldn't come to her so easily. She was lonely and afraid, trapped with all these strangers in an unforgiving world that only saw them as caged animals. She didn't have anyone to talk to – anyone to comfort her and assure her that everything was going to be alright.

She wanted to be held. She wanted someone to stroke her hair and whisper soothingly in her ear. She wanted to be told that this was all just a bad dream. That if she thought long and hard enough, maybe if she pinched herself, it would all go away. She wanted to feel safe and loved. Something about that seemed familiar to her and she wondered if anyone had treated her that way before. Maybe a mother or father or some other relative.

She didn't know who her parents were or if she even had any to begin with but she missed the thought of them. She wasn't sure if there was even anything to miss but she missed it nonetheless. She felt empty; a shell of her former self that had been lost. She needed something to anchor her, to feel like she had a reason to exist. Otherwise she was afraid she was going to float away into nothingness without anything to pull her back down. She was being smothered with so much unknown that it was near impossible to come back up for air.

Sniffing slightly, she wiped away a stray tear from her cheek as it attempted to sink into the blanket beneath her head. She readjusted herself to lie on her back, removing her arms out from under her blanket to rest them on top of it instead. She sniffed again, unwilling to let herself cry but also unable to stop the handful of tears that managed to escape. She brushed them all away, feeling her eyes burn.

Tilting her head, she faced away from commotion by the hut. Fleetingly she thought that the blanket she was resting on felt very soft.

She then jerked awake, feeling groggy and alarmed as her heart pumped madly in her chest. Had she fallen asleep?

Something had startled her awake but there was nothing out of the ordinary around her. There were soft snores surrounding her, all varying in volume and tenor but none so loud that they bothered her. It was dark and she could vaguely smell the hint of smoke on the air from the torches and came to the conclusion that everyone had only just recently tucked in for the night.

Rubbing her eyes that felt swollen and sore, she blinked tiredly around her. There were only a few occupied hammocks, four or so at the most besides hers. The area was small and there wasn't much personal space but she didn't dwell on it. She settled back into her blanket, willing her heart to slow its erratic pace, only to have the life nearly scared out of her by an echoing shriek that reverberated off the walls in the distance.

A few of the boys shifted in their sleep, one seemingly waking up with a gasp and panting for a few seconds, only to fall back to sleep a short moment later.

She clutched the blanket in her hands tightly, feeling her knuckles cramp up at the tension. The roar didn't sound a second time but one was enough to frazzle her completely. It came from beyond the walls, that much she was certain. She didn't want to ponder what it could've been but the painful strains in her heart clearly distracted her from sleep and there weren't any other means of distraction.

The night felt fouler to her after that. Every noise she heard caused a flutter in her chest that made her wince. Every shadow that cast itself upon her blankets or the ground closest to her were an immediate evil and a few times she almost cried out, certain that the shadows were closing in on her. Her paranoia was getting to her and she couldn't stand to just lie there but at the same time she was too terrified to move.

It was an ongoing battle the rest of the night. Every time she felt herself slipping away into unconsciousness something would frighten her back into reality. A few times she could've sworn she heard movement amongst the walls, a vague clanging of shifting concrete and metal, but her mind was so mistrustful and weary she didn't know what was real and what wasn't anymore.

By daybreak her eyes were heavy like weights and there was a dull throbbing in her head.

Her mouth felt dry and every joint in her body screamed in discomfort whenever she moved. She was so painfully tired that she just wanted to wake someone up and ask them to knock her out and force her to sleep. There was a continuous pang of anxiety in her chest ever since the shriek and part of her considered the possibility that maybe she was going to have a heart attack and die.

She continued to lie there, staring unblinking up at the canopy above as the sky lightened into a muted pink.

Hearing movement, she turned her head to find where it came from and saw the boys from the night before jogging down to the closed doors at the walls. Like clockwork, the moment they reached them the doors rang like grinding gears as they opened themselves. Once there was enough space, the boys ran through them and disappeared out of sight.

She meant to ask Newt about them the night before but clearly her mind had been too cluttered to remember.

Within the next half hour or so, the Glade began to wake up. She didn't move or acknowledge any of the boys as they passed by her hammock, running hands through their hair sleepily and yawning widely. She was waiting for someone to come to her and she found that she didn't have to wait very long.

She could hear the faint brushing of shoes against grass approaching her hammock and when they were close enough she turned her head to face them, squinting slightly up at them.

Newt stared down at her, eyebrows raised as he took a good look at her face.

"You look like hell," he told her honestly. She groaned, not wanting to be reminded of it. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"About an hour or so," she said, voice scratchy. She rubbed her eyes and it felt unpleasant.

He grimaced in sympathy and didn't comment on it.

"Let's go get some breakfast in you, yeah? Nick'll wanna talk to you soon."

As tired and sluggish as she was, food sounded good and she was interested to meet this famous Nick that Newt kept going on about. She quite literally rolled out of the hammock and stumbled slightly as she stood, catching Newt's amused stare before avoiding eye contact completely as she followed after him to the kitchen.

They grabbed some leftovers as everyone had already eaten and begun their daily routines, and she fleetingly wondered if he had purposefully waited to eat with her. Maybe as a way to make her feel more comfortable. She wasn't going to complain, as it was obviously working. She certainly didn't want to eat in front of someone who wasn't eating as well.

For the better part of their breakfast neither of them said anything. It was an amiable silence. They sat at one of the tables near the kitchen under another awning that protected them from the heat of the morning sun. She was working on the last few bites of her eggs when Newt finally spoke.

"So did you heart anything last night? Anything unusual?" he asked through a mouthful.

Half of her was hoping that topic wouldn't be brought up. But the other half of her, the bigger half, was glad that it was.

"Yes," she told him, gauging his reaction. Was she finally going to be getting some information?

He didn't seem surprised by her response and she idly wondered if he'd been awake when it happened too.

"Nick'll tell you about that," he said simply and she gritted her teeth. If he wasn't going to tell her anything useful then why did he bring it up?

"What if I want you to tell me?" she countered bravely. Newt paused mid-chew, seemingly taken aback by her words, but he didn't respond. "Why did you even mention it if you weren't going to tell me anything?" she asked exasperatedly. "It's not exactly fun to wake up in the middle of the night surrounded by people you don't know in a place you didn't think existed and hear this awful… _growl_. I mean, is there something out there? In the maze? Are we in danger? Is that what this is about? Is that why we're stuck here?"

"Easy love," Newt said calmly, unabashed by her sudden outburst. "We're safe in the Glade, I promise you that. That's just kind of the way it works around here. Nick does all the talking, explains everything to the Greenies. You've just gotta slim it 'til then, alright?"

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, brushing it off her shoulders.

"What if I don't want to talk to Nick? I don't even know who this guy is, he hasn't even been around. Clearly I'm not high on his list of priorities. You're the only one who's bothered talking to me so why can't you just tell me?"

"He's just busy is all," Newt said defensively. "He's working on something right now that's kind of important. Eventually you'll understand."

She had a feeling she wouldn't.

Newt finished his breakfast long before she did. She picked at the ham on her plate for the better part of a half hour while she went between watching the boys slamming nails into wooden planks against the red building and watching Newt.

Occasionally a few boys would pass by their table and mouth something to Newt who would in turn wave them off and say he'd be around later. She felt a little embarrassed that he seemed assigned to the task of babysitting her until someone else could take her off his hands.

Once the sun was high in the sky and no one had approached the two of them for a solid ten minutes or so, a boy began making his way over to them.

He had shaggy blonde-brown hair and a strong build, fairly taller than average but not overweight. He was running his fingers through the mop of hair on his head as he ambled towards them at a casual pace, nodding in her direction when he got close enough.

"Hey, you must be the greenbean," he said. He had a slight southern accent but it wasn't overwhelming. She bit the inside of her cheek, not quite understanding the terms they used on her. She nodded in reply, unwilling to speak. "Name's Nick. Sorry I couldn't meet up with you yesterday. Shitty day and all, running the maze."

He held a beefy hand out to her and she shook it, exchanging a surprisingly firm handshake.

"Alright?" Newt asked in greeting, tossing his legs out and relaxing against the table.

"Good as I'll ever be," Nick said with a friendly grin. "Get your ass outta here, you got work to do."

Newt smirked out of the corner of his mouth and stood from his seat across from her. She glanced up at him warily but he gave her a simple nod before taking both their empty plates to toss them away before heading towards the gardens. She watched him go until he was further away than was appropriate for staring.

"So," Nick clapped his hands together. "Let's get on with the tour. Got a lot of stuff to tell you and I'm sure your greenbean head is just full of questions."

She followed him through the Glade as he introduced the areas by name. The larger building was called the Homestead where the original thirty had slept. According to Nick they originally just built it for them because they didn't know others would join them, but once more and more started being sent up in the Box it was on a first come first serve basis until they ran out of room. It was less work for them to set out canopies near the Homestead than it was for them to expand the place once it was fully built, which was where she was staying. They had their own homemade cots in the Homestead but they were rough on your back, Nick said, which was why the most recent additions were given hammocks to sleep on instead.

The red building was where they prepared the meat. She couldn't remember what Nick had called it because she was too busy grimacing at the idea of having to 'prepare' the animals. The gardens were self-explanatory and then there was the Med-Jack tent for people who got injured, and then Deadheads, the burial site deep in the woods where they buried Gladers who passed away. The area was dark and murky, air thick and humid, and she couldn't have gotten out of there fast enough. As she gazed down at the vast amount of handmade tombstones that already littered the ground, she felt like she was being smothered to death inside a coffin. Her heart was heavy as she followed Nick back through the woods.

They reached the open courtyard that rested somewhere in the middle of all the buildings and Nick's pace slowed as he stuffed his hands inside his pockets.

"So," he glanced over at her and she had her arms crossed. "What questions you got? Fire away."

Her list of questions had compiled into a generous amount overnight but she didn't know what to ask first. She was riddled with anxiety and felt worried that Nick would only give her evasive answers that didn't really answer her questions at all.

"The Creators," she began, rubbing her arms in a form of self-comfort. Nick hummed as he listened. "Newt said that's what you call them," she glanced over at him. "Have you ever met them before? Do they ever come up here?"

Nick shook his head, lines hardened on his face. His nose was slightly sunburnt and he had a few wayward hairs along his chin and jawline that seemed to form a thin five o'clock shadow.

"Nah, never seen 'em," he said. "We know they're there though. They always send stuff up in the Box every week, medical stuff and random tools, sometimes blankets and extra clothes. And newbies like you once a month."

"Why every month?" she asked.

Nick shrugged. "Don't know the reason, it's just their pattern. Always at the same time of day, same time of the month, without fail like clockwork."

Her stomach twisted and clenched. "And you don't know how the whole," she swallowed, "memory wipe thing goes, do you?"

Nick squared his jaw. They circled around the perimeter of the courtyard a few times, stepping through sand before making their way towards the kitchens.

"Not a damn clue. We've tried looking for any marks that they might have left on us but our skin's basically pure as the driven snow when we're sent up."

"And… well, you wouldn't know what makes me any different, I suppose. Me being the only girl and all," she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. Her head was already beginning to swim and she felt like she may cry because Nick really didn't know any more than she did and that was terrifying.

"I don't know why they'd send you up after sending only guys up for so long," Nick said, staring off ahead in a bit of a trance. "Maybe they're going to start integrating girls into the Glade, or maybe they only want you here for some sick reason," his lip curled and she shuddered at the thought, understanding what he meant. "They're sick bastards. I've kind of learned now not to underestimate them at this point. I mean, how could I? None of us know what they're capable of. And my guess is we're right where they want us."

The conversation had turned dark much too quick for her liking and she licked her lips, wishing she could be anywhere else at any other time. She was trapped inside a nightmare she couldn't escape from, didn't know any loopholes to force herself awake and make all the bad things go away. She felt hopeless, like there wasn't anything to live for if their world was full of so much uncertainty.

Before she realized how far they traveled, Nick stopped a few feet away from the canopy near her hammock.

"Just try and rest a bit for today," he said, turning back to glance up at the sky as a wayward breeze passed through the trees. "Tomorrow starts the beginning of your new life. I'd suggest you rest up for it and try not to think too hard. Greenies have done things you couldn't imagine to try and get all the bad thoughts outta their heads. I don't wanna come by in the morning and see your skull bashed in or your eyes clawed out."

She had to suppress the shriek that darted up her throat, had to physically clasp her hand around her neck as if to hold it in place.

She wasn't sure if she was a religious person, didn't know if she believed in anything spiritual or in the validity of souls being condemned to an eternity of torment for their misgivings. But she was literally petrified of her former self if that were case, wondered what she could have possibly done in her past life, because at that moment she truly felt like she was in hell.

* * *

 **Here's chapter two, uploaded quickly as promised! Hopefully this will give you a better feel for the story. I like to jump between the past and the present as a way to get to know the characters and show development so hopefully that won't be a distraction to you. I've tried separating the timelines in a way that makes the transitions smooth. Thanks for reading! xoxo**


	3. thomas & day three

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

* * *

 **present day—the glade**

Amy idly observed the Greenie from her vantage point on top of the Bloodhouse.

The sun's powerful rays were doing a number on her already burnt shoulders and she wiped them down with a few drops of water from her canteen every few minutes to cool them off.

The boy seemed deep in thought as he listened to Alby. She assumed he was being treated to the infamous tour of the Glade and from the looks of it the Greenie couldn't keep his mouth shut for very long. He seemed overly curious, and most likely suspicious, and it was undoubtedly annoying Alby to the point of impatience.

She absently fiddled with the tools in her hands as she watched the two. She never got the Greenie's name when he arrived in the Box the day before. He legged it across the field after he was pulled out of the Box and from all the chatter and commotion, she gathered that he had some sort of mental breakdown upon seeing the maze's walls and was given the silent treatment overnight so his mind had the time to recover. Amy couldn't say she blamed him.

"Enough daydreaming, princess," a voice called from somewhere at her left. She turned to face Gally who was sweating up a storm as he hefted a few planks of wood onto the roof. "This piece of klunk isn't gonna fix itself."

"Just daydreaming about you, Gally," she countered offhandedly and she could practically hear him roll his eyes. She watched the Greenie for a few seconds more before she pulled herself out of her daze and continued on with her work.

Later that day as she was heading to dinner she caught up with Newt. She was wiping her face with a wet washcloth that she'd soaked in the stream in the woods and her hair was damp from the quick swim she took to rinse herself off.

"Hey," she greeted with a quick grin as she reached the boy's side. He gave her a half smirk in return as he nudged their shoulders. She rested the cloth on the nape of her neck. "Any word on the Greenie? Does he know who he is?"

"Dunno," Newt shrugged. They lined up outside the kitchens and greeted Winston who carried the scent of the Bloodhouse with him everywhere he went. She squinted at him in irritation and he simply waggled his eyebrows. He knew it bothered her. Newt shook his head at the exchange. "I met him earlier. Briefly. He was bugging Alby to hell with all his questions."

Amy laughed. "I noticed. Alby hasn't mastered his temper quite like Nick had with all the Greenies. Nick just had fun with it."

"It'll just take some practice," Newt quirked his lips. "He'll have plenty of time for that, I'm sure. Chuck's helping the Greenie get situated for the night."

Amy smiled to herself. She liked Chuck.

She grabbed an empty tray and approached the counter where Frypan was waiting with a spoonful of slop.

"Order up, sister," he greeted and slapped the food on her tray with an elegant _plop_. She smiled at him.

"You're too kind, Fry, you're too kind."

The Gladers liked to take the mickey out of Frypan for his food. It really wasn't nearly half as bad as they made it out to be – oftentimes it was quite delicious – but the teasing was something they'd always done. It wasn't for lack of gratitude, plus Frypan was able to dish out whatever heat was given to him with equal fervor. It was all in good fun.

She grinned at this as she forked some pieces of pork onto her tray along with a handful of veggies and a bowl of fruit before making her way to a table. She gracefully slid into an open seat beside Minho who stole half of her fruit cup the minute she sat down. Newt scooted in on her other side and handed her his extra fruit to make up for it, as per usual.

She chatted idly with their group at the table as everyone ate. Ben cackled wildly at something Frankie said and followed up with something equally hilarious that had the entire table in an uproar. The boys were almost always animated and it lifted Amy's spirits whenever she was having a rough day.

She leaned into Newt for support as another wave of laughter coursed through the group and Newt glanced down at her in amusement, eyes shining brightly with mirth as he stuffed some bread in his mouth, inevitably getting crumbs in her hair. Minho threw a wayward grape at her forehead and she squawked at him for wasting the fruit he jacked from her, only to contradict herself by throwing a piece of orange at him in retaliation.

By the end of their meal after half the table had dispersed to light a bonfire, Newt stood from his seat and took the proffered cocktail of the night as concocted by Gally who was passing out the horrid liquid in small mason jars. Newt offered her a drink and she scrunched up her nose which made him laugh loudly.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said.

She watched him as he walked towards the outskirts of the camp the boys had set up around the freshly lit fire and joined the Greenie who was sitting alone against a log with his back to the festivities. Oh, Newt. Ever the boy who hated to see people sitting by themselves.

Most of the night passed by in a blur. Amy was invited to play cards with Minho, Ben and Jeff by the fire as Gally wrestled with the other boys. She generally stood a chance when she was up against just Ben or Jeff and she was raining champion against Frankie (which didn't say a lot about Frankie) but she may as well have forfeited if Minho was in the game. Neither she nor anyone else ever won when he played.

And as expected, she lost all three games and was a sore loser about every single one.

"You're cheating," she accused for the eighth time as Minho shuffled the cards with a haughty grin.

"I don't cheat, Ames, you just suck at playing," he told her with an air of delight at the sour look on her face.

"That doesn't mean anything," she refuted with a glare as he began dealing the cards again.

Ben and Jeff groaned as they accepted their cards. None of them ever knew why they continued to play. The outcome never changed. The only difference was sometimes Jeff came in second instead of Ben. Amy was always last, which she would never cease to be bitter about.

"Why don't you go play with someone more worthy of your skills then if my intelligence is such an insult to you?"

"Don't be fooled by it. I could play with anyone and still be awesome," he grinned and Amy succumbed to two more losing rounds before she, Jeff and Ben decided to take their failing expertise elsewhere with more pleasant company.

Naturally she went in search for Newt who she wholeheartedly planned to complain to about the five rounds she lost and her top-secret theory that Minho stuffed cards down his pants. She wasn't quite sure how he managed to retrieve them without anyone noticing, or for that matter how he put them down there to begin with, but she wasn't too concerned with the details.

She caught sight of him walking with the Greenie as he pointed to different groups, probably explaining to them who they were and what they did.

Amy made her approach with ease, casually swinging her arms at her sides as she dodged a few of the wrestlers. Newt's eyes met hers and he smirked boyishly.

"Not much going on upstairs, them Builders," she heard him say when she was within ear range. She raised her eyebrows at the challenge in his tone. "But they're good with their hands, I'll give them that."

"I resent that insult," she scoffed and the Greenie eyed her with disbelief.

"Wait, you're a girl," his brows furrowed deeply as his eyes glided along her frame, as if to reassure himself that she was indeed female.

"Last time I checked," she nodded.

"Are you the only girl here?" Greenie demanded, not unkindly. His mouth clearly didn't have a filter for his brain and it wasn't hard for her to believe that he'd tried Alby's patience.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm Amy," she held out her hand for Greenie to shake and he did so without question. For a talker he still seemed to have his manners. "And don't ask why because we don't know."

"You don't know a lot of things," said Greenie warily, sounding as though he were reflecting on his earlier conversation with Alby who must not have told him very much.

"Enough for us to get by," Newt dismissed before Greenie could delve into a sour mood.

Amy gazed at the boy's face searchingly and by appearances standards he looked to be about Newt's age. He had dark hair with dark eyes to match and naturally tan skin. His face wasn't entirely innocent which suggested he'd seen more than his mind could remember but it was open with morbid curiosity that she figured would never be completely sated.

She could tell that he was having a hard time dealing with their situation which she could understand. Most of them coped with their fates the same way – confusion, denial, anger – until eventually they just learned to accept it and move on. There was no point in looking back if it prevented them from moving forward. And though more often than not it felt like time stood still in the Glade, they had to create some sort of semblance that their lives were continuing on in some way. It was too painful to dwell on a past that they couldn't even remember existed.

"So you're a Builder," Greenie said, not in an offensive way but more so genuinely curious. She slid into step with them as they walked along the courtyard, boisterous laughter echoing around them as everyone cheered.

"Yep, mostly just doing repairs nowadays. We haven't built anything from scratch in a long time."

Greenie nodded a bit as he watched the ground in front of them. "How does that work? Becoming a Builder or Slicer or whatever else there is around here."

"There's a training course you get to go through," said Newt, avoiding a detailed explanation because it wasn't his place to tell.

"What if I want to be a Runner?" Greenie said suddenly, stopping and forcing Amy and Newt to stop with him. Amy exchanged a glance with Newt. "I saw them come back from the maze earlier. Alby said that's what they were."

"No one _wants_ to be a Runner," Newt stressed, sounding exasperated. Clearly the Greenie had already expressed his morbid curiosity to him before Amy's arrival.

"Maybe I do," Greenie countered.

Maybe this was his way of coping. Amy remembered how badly she needed to see reason, how she wanted an explanation. She hadn't dealt with it in the most convenient way. She ended up panicking. She figured maybe his way was better than becoming a head case. Though, being a Runner was almost like suicide, wasn't it? So which one was worse? Amy figured she didn't really have the right to make that kind of judgement.

"Hey Greenie, over here!"

Amy heard the boys' taunts and rolled her eyes inwardly. She didn't have to look to know that they wanted the greenbean to wrestle with them. She stepped over to Newt who'd turned in the direction the mocking voices came from, taking a sip of his nasty tonic. His expression was a cross between amusement and contemplation and when his eyes met hers he gave her a quick wink which she outwardly rolled her eyes to.

"Think you've got what it takes?" Gally asked, stepping around the ring of sand as if he owned it. Amy figured he probably did. She crossed her arms over her chest as Greenie took the bait and slinked over to the crowd, shoulders tense.

"What's this about?" he asked.

"An initiation of sorts," Gally smirked, gesturing to the ring. "All you gotta do is try to push me out of the circle. C'mon greenbean, don't be a _shank_."

The boys whistled and hooted at the term, egging Greenie on and provoking him with the name he probably didn't even know the meaning of. One grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and tugged him closer. He jerked out of their grasp, smoothing down the material before voluntarily stepping into the circle, cautious and unknowingly not at all ready for a fight with Gally. He rarely lost.

"So this is new," Amy said, attempting to sound airy. Her lips turned down in disgust when Newt offered a drink of his cocktail and a ghost of a grin spread across his lips before he took another sip, knowing she wouldn't have accepted. "He's curious," she emphasized when Newt said nothing, seemingly too interested in the impending fight to respond.

He was watching the Greenie carefully, eyes clouded in unconcealed concern that made Amy's heart clench. He was always watchful of the newbies during their first couple of days.

"It's probably going to get him into trouble," said Newt, wincing when Gally made his first attack. Amy didn't watch but the exaggerated _ooh's_ and the painful sound of Greenie's grunt suggested he hadn't missed.

Amy hummed. "Wonder what Minho would say if he knew he wanted to be a Runner."

Newt gave her a pointed look and said laughingly, "He'd call him a slint and hit him for good measure. Maybe rattle some sense lose in his shuck brain."

Another slam into the ground and the crowd guffawed.

"We haven't had a new Runner in a long time," she reminded him, stuffing her hands inside her pants pockets and rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Gee, I wonder why," Newt deadpanned. He bumped shoulders with her and the material of their shirts brushed together as he stepped closer. "Minho's got it all under control. He could probably run the damn maze by himself blindfolded."

"I'm not worried about Minho," Amy said. She bit her lip at Newt's curious look. "I just have a bad feeling."

Newt's eyebrows rose. "That's never good."

"I know."

There was silence as Greenie wailed in the sand, looking wired and shaken as he thrust his hands outward.

"Hey. _Hey!_ Hey, wait!" his voice sounded strangled, eyes wide as saucers and skin pale as if he'd seen a ghost.

He looked like he wanted to cry and Amy swallowed thickly as Newt took another calm sip of his drink.

"Thomas… _Thomas!_ " the boy shrieked. Sand dusted the side of his head, falling from his hair as he tossed about and Amy realized he must have hit his head pretty hard on the ground. "My name is Thomas!" he choked, voice wrought with emotion.

A boy stepped forward and slapped him on the shoulder. Amy had to swallow her own sentiments down at the sight of Greenie's _– Thomas'_ – face as he was reunited with a part of himself. It was always emotional whenever a Greenie remembered their name.

"Welcome home, Thomas," she mumbled in unison with Frypan as he handed the boy a congratulatory cocktail.

Newt grinned over at her, eyes shining brightly in the dancing flames.

* * *

 **day three** **—** **three years ago**

"You've had a day to rest and take it all in. But it's time you start doing your part," said Nick the following morning.

He casually strolled through each little sector of the Glade as he spoke and she followed slowly behind him, arms crossed tightly against her chest as she listened to him explain the different areas and what their tasks were. Newt certainly hadn't been wrong when he said they'd established an order.

"Keeper Training is where you spend a day in each section and the Keeper of each area shows you how to do their job. You do this until the end of the week where you eventually get selected by a Keeper to work with them permanently," he said, tossing a look over his shoulder to make sure she was still paying attention. "I don't really see you as the Bagger or Slicer type," he mentioned offhandedly and she bristled at his words without meaning to.

"Is it because I'm a girl?" she asked without thinking. She didn't even know what a Bagger or Slicer was but she didn't want anyone to assume she lacked the ability to work just because she wasn't male.

Nick raised an eyebrow at her and she wondered briefly if he was going to berate her for her tone but he didn't.

"No. They're not really jobs anyone wants to do. _But_ ," he ambled forward again as he continued on and she exhaled softly, feeling as though she'd dodged a bullet. She winced a little and tried to keep better control over her word vomit, "you have to try them out just like everyone else. Wouldn't want to _single_ you out," he narrowed his eyes slightly and she blushed.

They reached the far end of the Glade on the opposite side of where she slept. She stood before the red building, looking as dilapidated and unfinished as usual. An odd smell reached her nose and she wrinkled her face in disgust, tasting something metallic and rotten on her tongue and Nick eyed her out of his peripherals.

"You get used to the smell pretty quick," he said as he pulled open the wooden door, motioning with his free hand for her to walk in before him. She warily stepped in front of him and made her way through the threshold, gagging a little as the scent slammed into her at full force once inside. "But it's always overwhelming at first. Once you step away from it for a while, you forget what the smell is like until you get a gnarly whiff of it again."

Nick led the way again until they reached a small group of boys gathered around a table. She quickly understood what it was she smelled and she had to swallow thickly in order to keep the bile from rising in her throat. There were carcasses draped over the table, cleanly sliced open and exposing their insides, permeating the air with the foul odor and staining the surface and ground a deep red.

She lifted a hand to her face, both covering her nose and mouth to keep from spewing her breakfast. She suddenly wished she hadn't eaten and the sick notion that she was probably looking at her breakfast for tomorrow made her feel slightly vegetarian.

The boys greeted Nick and one of them wiped his gloved hands on his horrendously stained shirt to lean against the table and watch her. Through her nauseous haze she assumed he was the Keeper.

"It's pretty self-explanatory but I'll give you the rundown anyway because I can," Nick smirked a little. He enjoyed being the leader, she gathered that much. "The Slicers are the ones who put down and prepare the animals for food. The Creators provide sedatives for us every week and it kind of makes it easier to deal with when you don't have to brutally murder a pig every day. There are sanitation protocols that we follow to make sure no one gets sick or catches anything. Winston will explain all of that to you," the aforementioned Winston jerked his head slightly in both an acknowledgement of Nick's words and a form of greeting. She didn't have the capacity to smile back at the moment, too preoccupied with not vomiting. "Who knows, maybe you'll end up doing a pretty good job. They haven't had a new member in a while."

 _I can't imagine why,_ she thought distastefully, still plugging her nose.

"Well," Nick clapped his hands together loudly, startling her. "I'll leave you to it then. If you need anything just holler," he patted her on the shoulder with a friendly grin and tipped an imaginary hat to Winston and the other two boys before taking his leave.

It was then quiet save for the disturbing slicing of a metal saw grazing over flesh and the painful grinding against bone. She had to forcefully root herself to the ground to keep from running out of the building. Winston tilted his head, urging her to his side and she took very slow steps to reach him. She tried averting her gaze from the carcass that was strewn about in front of her but it was hard as there weren't many other places to look. She settled for staring pointedly at Winston's face and he didn't seem to mind.

He began to explain the process of skinning the animals and preparing their meat for consumption. She tried her best to focus on his words and drown out the repulsive noises that the other two Slicers were making in front of them but it wasn't easy.

"See, we have to make sure the meat is edible first. Right when it's cut there's bacteria that's open to all kinds of nasty diseases."

"How did you know how to make it edible?" she dared to ask, voice nasally as she avoided breathing through her nose.

Winston grinned wolfishly and she found the look unsettled her. "Well we didn't at first. A few guys paid the price and we learned from our mistakes. No one's gotten sick in about a month so I think we've figured it out."

She absolutely did not like the sound of that. She was reminded of the bacon she tried on her first day and her stomach gurgled.

Winston handed her a pair of butcher's gloves and a dirty t-shirt with questionable brown stains to change into. She found some privacy near the animal pens and quickly discarded her clean shirt, adamant about leaving her tank top on beneath the stained one. Her skin already felt scratchy and unclean as she made her way back into the Bloodhouse, as it was so aptly named by Winston himself.

It was then that she spent the better part of an hour watching Winston as he went through the motions of the job. She had to admit it was brutal and oftentimes she found herself curling her lip in disgust or turning her head to the side whilst feigning an itch or cramp in her neck.

The positive side was that her nose had finally become desensitized to the horrid smell, so her nausea was only tied to one of her senses rather than two. She put up a bit of a fight when Winston asked her to copy what she'd seen him do but eventually she complied. It took her twice as long as it had him as she found herself pausing every few minutes to breathe deeply and focus on not throwing up.

By the time lunch rolled around they'd successfully prepared some meat for the day's evening dinner and she had a number of sticky red stains along her upper arms and even a jagged line across her jaw where she'd tried brushing a strand of hair out of her face. It took her a good five minutes plus Winston's heady reassurances that she wasn't going to get violently ill from the blood's contact on her skin to recover from that one.

The Slicers were eager to break for some grub and they didn't push her when she politely declined any food. She regretted to admit that she was hungry but she couldn't bring herself to eat anything. She wallowed miserably in the fact that she would most likely have nightmares that night about butchering innocent animals and she idly wondered when she'd have a peaceful night's sleep again. She didn't expect it to happen any time soon.

She quietly made her way to the stream located just through the borders of the woods. She didn't find it sanitary to rinse her arms in the Glade's water spigot and she'd rather not have an audience as she did so anyway. She had high hopes that the open air would cleanse her sinuses and clear her head but she couldn't rid her nose of the iron scent of blood no matter how hard she tried.

She vigorously scrubbed her skin raw with a pumice stone and some disinfectant soap she found near the Bloodhouse, uncaring of the fact that she would soon have to dirty her skin again when she returned to finish her day with the Slicers.

Her stomach growled and cramped with hunger but she dutifully ignored it, still feeling uneasy and incapable of looking at any food. She frowned as she scrubbed her arms and face clean, leaving angry red marks in the stone's wake. She didn't like it there. She didn't like the Glade, she didn't like the Bloodhouse, she didn't like cutting open animals or sleeping in a hammock or talking to strangers. She didn't like any of it.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears and she sniffed, clenching her jaw and grinding her teeth in despair. Her hands felt over-sensitive and sore from her relentless scrubbing and she dropped the pumice stone into the stream with a deep sigh, closing her eyes tightly. She rested her wet hands on her knees as she attempted to calm herself down.

She just wanted to go home.

She didn't know what hurt worse – the fact that she would never be able to go home, or the fact that she didn't know where home was to begin with.

It was shit. All of this was shit. Her nails bitterly dug into her thighs and a few tears trailed down her raw cheeks, burning the delicate skin. She sat for a few minutes in silence, breathing in the clean air of the leaves and grass.

She faintly heard someone shouting off in the distance not too long after and her eyes snapped open. She sniffed again and cleared her throat, erasing all signs of her distress as she turned to face behind her. Winston had jogged a few feet into the trees and once he caught her eye he waved her over.

She exhaled deeply and pursed her lips before collecting her things and following after him to the Bloodhouse.

By the end of the day she felt sore and sick to her stomach. The last hour or so had been hard for her because she was jittery from lack of food. She kept hydrated with a water canteen but her body didn't seem to think that was enough.

As the Slicers cleaned themselves up and headed to the kitchens for dinner, she proceeded back to the stream where she scrubbed herself again. She brought a change of clothes and quickly bathed while everyone was distracted by the feast. They had their own outhouses for restrooms and showers, of course, dingy and small but they got the job done. She felt like being alone for a while though and the stream worked just as well. The cool water felt nice on her hot skin. She also managed to clean her tank top before the sky grew dark and she was forced to retreat back into the canopy outside the Homestead.

She hung her tank top up to dry along the line that supported the canopy before she took an unsteady seat in her hammock. She felt less gross on the outside now that she had bathed but on the inside she felt worse for wear.

She ran a tired hand through her damp hair. She felt ill. There was an empty feeling of homesickness settling within her chest and she had residual nausea from the Bloodhouse, not to mention the hunger cramps. None of it was a good mix and she concerned herself with the idea that maybe she had a fever.

Light footfalls stepping across the grass shook her out of her thoughts and she watched a tall, lanky figure approach her hammock out of the corner of her eye. She sighed again, melancholic and not in the mood for socializing. Newt stopped a few feet away from her, eyeing her from head to toe with a hint of concern before offering a plate of food to her. She eyed the plate warily.

"If I'm not mistaken you haven't eaten anything all day. Stubborn as you may be I'm not taking no for an answer. You look knackered," he held the plate closer and she caught a glimpse of cooked veggies and fresh fruit.

Her stomach growled loudly and she accepted the plate with chagrin. He looked slightly amused and he crossed his arms over his chest once the plate was taken from him.

"You alright?" he asked knowingly.

She fed herself a few strawberries and contemplated the question. "I don't want to be a Slicer," she said quietly after she finished chewing.

Newt didn't seem surprised by her answer. "You won't be," he assured her gently. "Winston may be a bit thick but he's not cruel. Some people can handle it and others can't."

She gazed off into the distance, eyes unfocused and glossy as she bit into her carrots. She felt relieved that she'd never have to set foot inside the Bloodhouse again but it didn't settle her nerves for what was to come. She still had a handful of other jobs to train for and for a selfish moment she wished they _would_ treat her differently. She felt moody and out of place and all she wanted to do was curl up in her hammock and sleep for days, not work in the hot sun and get blood on her hands. She felt guilty the second the thought crossed her mind and she shook it away.

"What am I going to be doing tomorrow?" she asked, if to at least take her mind off her other thoughts.

Newt shuffled a bit and leaned against her hammock for support. He took the weight off his left leg and his features slackened in relief. She wondered if he realized she noticed.

"You're sticking with me at the gardens," he said. She took another bite of strawberry. "Figured you could use a break. It's not a hard job to do – pull weeds, harvest crops, pick fruit trees. You're just stuck under the sun all day which can hurt like hell if you don't use enough sunblock," he read the surprise on her face and he grinned. "You'd be surprised what the Creators actually give us. Speaking of," he nudged a bag that rested underneath her hammock with the toe of his shoe. She didn't remember seeing it there yesterday and she frowned. "This came up in the Box with you. Alby brought it over earlier."

She bent down to sort through it and she felt her cheeks flush a deep crimson at the feminine supplies she found. She quickly closed the bag and nodded her thanks. Newt didn't seem to care for her embarrassment and he didn't comment on it.

"You should probably get some rest. Can't have you falling asleep on me tomorrow or I'll kick your arse."

She huffed out a short laugh and watched Newt's crooked grin as he regarded her carefully. He looked as if he wanted to say more but he must have thought better of it because instead he nodded, taking the empty plate from her and bidding her goodnight before limping off to the kitchens where everyone else still lingered. She contemplated the limp for a brief moment, a voice in the back of her mind begging her to ask how he got it.

The half-smile slowly faded from her lips as she was left alone with her poisonous thoughts once more.


	4. day four

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

* * *

 **day four—three years ago**

It was as if a routine had placed itself between her and Newt as she squinted tiredly up at him the following morning when he came to wake her up for another day, only to see that she was already awake.

Her mind felt hazy and she was sure there were bags under her eyes that looked puffy and bruised from lack of sleep. Newt's eyebrows pinched together when he saw her but he didn't say anything this time and instead ushered her up to grab some breakfast before beginning her day with him at the gardens.

She trailed slowly after him. Her body ached all over from her restless night. Her mind had been poisoned with night terrors and it was taking its toll on her, both physically and mentally. There was still a vague scent of iron in her nose that she couldn't escape and her stomach twisted a bit when she saw the plates of bacon awaiting them at the kitchen. She grabbed a plate anyway, too tired to bother with grimacing at its contents.

When they sat down, Newt simply took the pieces of bacon off her plate and exchanged them with his eggs.

"Doesn't mean you get to eat any less," he commented easy enough, though there was a slight undertone of warning in his voice that said he expected her to eat everything on her plate.

It took them twice as long to eat as usual because she kept picking at her food and when they finally made it to the gardens everyone else was already hard at work.

She watched absently as Newt explained to her how to prepare the soil for vegetables. He demonstrated how to smooth the soil with a rake and then explained to her the proper amount of fertilizer to use for each section.

She felt like she was watching everything through a film, like she wasn't really there. Her mind was off in some faraway place but Newt's voice tethered her to reality and occasionally she was able to hone in on his words, usually when he was already halfway through a sentence. She nodded every time he looked up at her expectantly, as if checking to make sure she was still paying attention.

He then asked her to repeat the steps he showed her. She raked the soil as she'd seen him do, body on autopilot as it mimicked his methods of smoothing the dirt. He seemed surprised that she'd gotten the hang of it so fast, as if he didn't really believe she'd been paying attention at all. In the back of her mind she was also a bit taken aback at the information her mind managed to retain because she really only heard half of what he said. She liked to assume that raking soil wasn't rocket science though and that she hadn't made that big of an accomplishment.

"There you go, you got it," Newt said appreciatively. He gave her a good-natured slap on the shoulder to which she smiled mechanically at.

Newt observed her for a few minutes, arms crossed as he leaned on his good leg until he didn't seem to think she needed anymore supervision. He left her to rake and fertilize on her own for a bit while he checked on the other Track-hoes and she was left with her thoughts.

Her arms continued to rake the soil but her eyes didn't see the dirt in front of her. She didn't feel like herself. But that was the thing, wasn't it? She didn't really know how she normally felt, did she? So how did she know what being normal really felt like?

Her mind felt disconnected with her body and she couldn't stop it from wandering as she continued to rake. Her nerves felt frayed and wiry and tight, like a rubber band that was being stretched too far. At any minute she felt like she was going to snap and it was a feeling she couldn't suppress no matter how hard she tried. She managed to take most of it out on the soil, raking more viciously than she needed to. The indents in the dirt were sharp and jagged and not at all like Newt's, which were all straight lines and neatness.

It was already beginning to feel slightly warm outside despite the earliness of the morning and she paused her work to lean against the rake, already sweating. Her hands were shaking and she couldn't tell if it was from the exertion or something else bubbling beneath the surface

She took this time to admire the view of the Glade, having only been able to do it once after first climbing out of the Box however long ago it was now. The green trees were swaying in the gentle breeze, tall grass billowing off in the distance and permeating the air with freshness. The sky was slowly transitioning from a warm orange to a light blue. She could see kids over by the Bloodhouse carrying planks of wood with tool belts around their waists. Smoke was coating the roof of the kitchen and floating skyward as the kid – what was his name again? – began cooking lunch.

Everything seemed relatively normal within the Glade, like everything was as it was supposed to be, and that was exactly what made it not normal at all.

Because she couldn't hear any birds chirping. Aside from idle chatter and the rustling of the leaves, there was no background noise. It was unsettling. It reminded her that none of this was actually normal. It was all staged, fabricated by the Creators. The wind was probably only blowing because they wanted it to be. She wasn't even sure the sky was real. It could've been some sort of simulation and they'd be none the wiser. The smell of the grass could've just been inside their heads. It was amazing what the mind could conjure up, how much it could distort what you perceived as real. It felt like she was holding a rake in her hands, but was she really? Or was it just some figment of her imagination?

How did she know that any of this was actually real?

 _What was her name?_

She hadn't realized she'd been clenching the rake tighter and tighter in her fists until a splinter of wood broke off into her finger and she winced, hand jerking out of reflex and sucking her back into reality.

She rested the rake against her collarbone as she cradled her injured finger with the other, seeing a tiny dot of blood on the inside of her pointer finger with a small piece of wood sticking out of it, nearly as thin as a strand of hair. She bit the inside of her cheek and carefully pulled the splinter out, holding it close in her line of sight as she gazed at it thoughtfully before trailing her eyes to the small cut it'd made. She tilted her head as she watched the speck of blood dry against her skin. When she moved her finger, the area stung as the skin pulled.

That had to have meant it was real, right? If it weren't, she wouldn't have felt the pain.

"Greenie?" Newt's voice penetrated her thoughts and she jumped a bit, dropping the splinter.

She spun around to face him and he was eyeing her carefully as he made his way over to her.

"You alright?" he asked when he reached her. She nodded, wiping her palms off on her pants before gripping the rake again. Newt seemed skeptical but he gestured her towards him with his hand. "Nice job. C'mon, let's go pick some tomatoes."

Despite the foreign heaviness in her stomach, she smiled a little at this. His accent made the word sound like _ta-mah-toes_.

She followed Newt around for the remainder of the morning, doing as he said without question because it didn't make her sick to pick vegetables or plant seeds. Newt ended up giving her some sunscreen as he'd mentioned the night before and something about the scent of it seemed familiar to her as she applied it to her shoulders and face. She could hear the sound of water crashing upon a shore in her ears and the scent of salt water and seaweed. It was gone as quickly as it came but it felt like it'd given her whiplash and she had to take a moment to recover from it.

It bothered her for the rest of the morning and through lunch as she snacked on the tomatoes and carrots she picked earlier after rinsing them. Newt was chatting away to someone she didn't recognize and she didn't bother to listen in on the conversation or try to contribute, couldn't even remember if Newt had introduced her to the person or not. Newt seemed to notice how detached she was but she didn't pay it much mind and he didn't comment on it which was just fine with her. All her mind was able to focus on were the roaring waves echoing in her eardrums and the phantom feeling of cold water spraying her skin.

"You ready to shave some of the corn?" Newt asked after they finished their food. She shrugged because she didn't have a clue what it meant to shave corn and she figured she didn't really have a say in it anyway.

After saying goodbye to the kid she may or may not have met, Newt guided her to a set of wooden logs splayed against the borders of the woods, buckets placed in front of them in a line. Two were filled to the brim with ears of corn. Three of them were empty. Newt swung his leg over and took a seat and she followed suit.

"Pretty self-explanatory," he said as he picked up an ear of corn. He began to peel away its green outer shell and deposited the pieces in one of the empty buckets. Once it was clean, he tossed the corn into another empty bucket. He then raised his eyebrows at her. "Got it?"

"Self-explanatory," she repeated and he grinned.

He took one full bucket and she took the other and they peeled in silence. The afternoon sun was brutal and relentless as its rays pierced their skin and she found herself dripping with sweat, her shirt sticking to her skin unpleasantly and making her itch.

Newt glanced over at her carefully when he was halfway through his corn pile and he eyed a spot on one of her shoulders.

"Might want to grab more sunblock, looks like your shoulders are burning," he said. It was a casual thing to say but something about it caused a ringing in her ears and she had to stop peeling the corn.

She could hear a voice, a woman's voice, berating her, _"Your shoulders are going to burn if you don't wear sunscreen, young lady!"_

And then another voice, a male voice, chimed in immediately after, _"Better watch out. Don't wanna get scorched."_

She blinked and the voices were gone as soon as they came but something about them unsettled her. She tried ignoring the feeling but no matter how much she tried to just peel the corn and forget about what she heard, the voices kept playing over and over again inside her head.

" _Your shoulders are going to burn if you don't wear sunscreen, young lady!"_

" _Better watch out. Don't wanna get scorched."_

" _Your shoulders are going to burn if you don't wear sunscreen, young lady!"_

" _Better watch out. Don't wanna get scorched."_

She shook her head as if the act would physically force the words out of her head but they continued to rattle around in her mind to the point where it was almost unbearable.

" _Your shoulders are going to burn if you don't wear sunscreen, young lady!"_

" _Better watch out. Don't wanna get scorched."_

" _Your shoulders are going to burn if you don't wear sunscreen, young lady!"_

" _Better watch out. Don't wanna get scorched."_

She sucked in an uneven breath and whispered to herself, "I can't do this."

Her hands shook so severely that she dropped the half-peeled ear of corn in the grass and Newt's fingers paused on his own corn as his eyes flashed over to her still form. When he saw the haunted look on her face he sat up taller, realizing that something else was going on beyond just being clumsy. He opened his mouth to say something but she quickly shook her head again.

" _Better watch out. Don't wanna get scorched."_

" _Better watch out. Don't wanna get scorched."_

"No, I can't do this. I can't—I can't do this."

She stood from the log and her legs felt like jelly as she pushed herself away from the buckets, stumbling slightly into the woods and bracing herself on a tree trunk. Her hands curled around her scalp, pulling at her hair as the words continued to echo through her brain like a broken record.

" _Your shoulders are going to burn if you don't wear sunscreen, young lady!"_

" _Better watch out. Don't wanna get scorched."_

Her eyes were wide and unseeing, filling with tears. Her breathing came in spurts, rattling her chest and lungs.

"Greenie?" Newt demanded, marching over to her. Her body leaned towards the direction his voice came from and she rested a shoulder against the trunk.

Once he reached her he gripped her shoulders to steady her form.

"I can't do this," she said again, voice edging on hysteric. Newt's brows furrowed as he reached her but she barely noticed he was there. "I can't be here. I can't pretend that everything's okay, Newt. Nothing's okay. I'm not okay. I feel like nothing's real! I keep getting these weird flashes of things that I feel like I should remember but I don't and it's _terrifying_ ," her wild eyes finally met Newt's and his gaze was both intense and cautious as he listened to her ramble, almost as if he'd heard it all before. Her voice dropped to a shaky whisper. "What if none of this is actually happening? What if the Creators have me in some sort of test tube and they're running experiments on my brain? What if we're all really just trapped in a lab somewhere unconscious as they mess with our heads? Newt, I can't do this.. I can't. _I can't_. I—"

" _Listen_ to me," he shook her shoulders and her words caught in her throat with a stutter. Once Newt was certain he had her attention, he pulled her hands out of her hair, wrapping his fingers around her tight fists. He watched their linked hands for a moment before he squeezed them and looked back up at her, brown eyes bright and alert. "None of this is normal. Not one damn thing. This place isn't normal. But the way you're acting," his lips turned upward just the tiniest bit and it was so fleeting that she almost told herself it wasn't a smile, "it's _completely_ normal. Everyone here feels like they're going mad at first. None of it makes sense and none of us have any answers. Not even Nick. But one thing I can tell you is for certain…"

He held her hands tighter and she licked her lips. Newt held her steady, kept her gaze on his.

"It's that we are all here with you. You're not in a lab, no one is poking and prodding at your bleeding brain. You have us. I promise you. You are _not_ alone. And you're not crazy either."

Newt was silent for a moment as he looked at her, eyes darting back and forth along the contours of her face like he was contemplating something. He pursed his lips.

"You wanna know how I got my limp?" he asked, voice rough and hoarse.

She blinked at him and clenched her fists tighter. Their noses were only inches apart and she could feel the air hitting her face as he breathed through his nose.

"I was a Runner once," he started, eyes faraway like he was reliving the memory. "When I was in the maze one day, I'd had enough. Decided I couldn't do it. I told myself over and over that this was it. I couldn't live like that, couldn't stand being trapped. Felt like I was being suffocated every damn day. Kind of got it stuck inside my head that maybe I was dreaming all of it, you know? Figured maybe if I could just force myself to wake up, everything would be alright. I wasn't thinking clearly, just felt fed up and needed to do something. Thought that if I did something drastic enough, maybe everything would just fade away.

"So I climbed the wall, right? I climbed as high as I could," he shrugged a halfhearted shoulder. "Didn't get very far, made it about a third of the way up. But I figured it was good enough," her breathing was labored and heavy as her heart palpated beneath their linked hands goosebumps rising along her flesh at his words. "I just jumped. Wanted to get it over with. Obviously didn't finish the job since I'm still here. Just left with a bloody limp to remember it by because my leg never healed quite right after."

She swallowed thickly once his eyes met hers again and she couldn't mistake the tears that were glistening in his eyes, but they never fell. He clenched his jaw once, twice.

"You're the spitting image of how I looked when I took the fall. It's damn near scary how much you remind me of myself," he squeezed her fists again, prying her fingers apart and soothing the indents her nails left on her palms. "That's why I'm here to tell you right now that you need to stop. There's no easy way to deal with this, but I'm asking—I'm _telling_ you to not panic. Don't end up like me with a banged up leg. It's just a reminder of how much of a coward I was. Even if we get out of here one day it's something I'm always gonna have to live with," he shook his head dejectedly and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't want you to end up the same way. No scars, yeah?"

His thumbs caressed the outside of her wrists and she sniffed wetly. "I don't think you're a coward."

Newt quirked an eyebrow. "Thanks for that."

They stood in silence for a minute or two. She was trying to calm her racing heart and could feel a headache pulsing behind her eyes. Newt was watching her carefully, his fingers on her wrists probably able to feel her fast pulse. He continued to gently stroke the skin with the pads of his thumbs and it calmed her.

"I don't want to be a Runner," she said finally.

Newt's gaze didn't waver. "Okay."

"Okay," she licked her lips again.

It was then that the close proximity began to make her head swim. Newt must have noticed her unease because he backed away, giving her room to breathe, and his hands held hers for a second longer before dropping them. She leaned all her weight back against the tree, sniffing again and wiping her eyes that felt itchy from the drying tears.

"You good?" Newt asked. She took a deep breath before nodding slowly. "Okay to go back now?" he checked. She nodded again. "Alright."

She followed after him as he led the way back to the logs. She watched as he limped, noticed the awkward way his leg moved and how much the muscles in his back contracted whenever it touched the ground, like it always caused him some level of pain to walk.

She bit her lip and didn't say anything else.

* * *

When Nick approached her hammock that evening, her heart sunk and she wasn't sure why.

"I know it's late and pretty last minute, but I want to show you something," he told her.

Something about the way he held himself and the way his words carried some level of seriousness they usually didn't made her spine straighten. It startled her a bit, put her on edge, and without question she followed him because the look on his face only dared her to protest.

She had a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach as he led her across the field. He walked with a purpose and the way the Gladers looked at the two of them as they passed by, as if they knew what was coming, only made her feel worse. Whatever he wanted to show her, it wasn't going to be good.

They reached the far wall beyond the edge of the woods and she felt confused. They were facing ivy-clad concrete and Nick paused, watching the moss in an eerie moment of silence. It was in that moment that she realized this was the closest she'd ever been to one of the maze walls. She followed the wall all the way to the top with her eyes, craning her neck in order to see where it ended. She thought about Newt's story and how he'd tried climbing to the top. She never realized before just how high the walls were and an image of a boy plummeting to his death flashed across her mind and she cringed.

The air grew thick between them and she slowly trailed her eyes back down to the older boy, waiting with bated breath. He pursed his lips before taking a step forward and brushing some of the ivy aside, exposing a small square in the wall not much larger than her head.

She furrowed her eyebrows and with his nod of approval, she inched closer.

 _It's a window,_ she thought, puzzled. She turned to Nick questioningly but he only gestured her forward and with a hint of caution she stepped forward until her nose was only a few centimeters from the glass. It revealed a long corridor clad in dark greenery, extending as far as her eyes could see. Her eyes widened in shock.

"Is this the inside of the maze?"

"Yeah," Nick told her. "Shouldn't be long now, the doors just closed. Keep watching," he instructed.

She did as he asked, not quite sure what she was looking or waiting for but her instincts kept her wary and on her toes.

About a minute passed and then she saw it. A flash of silver at the end of the passageway. She narrowed her eyes, her sight not nearly strong enough to identify what it was. She moved even closer to the glass, curiosity eating away at her as she watched the silvery glint in the moonlight. For a few seconds it didn't move, just remained floating in the darkness until suddenly it expanded and her breath caught in her throat.

There was something large scuttling in the distance and then there were multiple silvery flashes of light. They looked almost metallic and formed odd angles but they clearly took solid form. She didn't have much time to think about what they could possibly be because she heard a familiar shriek, much louder than the one she heard last night and very obviously close by. Her heart contracted painfully against her chest and she jumped, glancing up at the sky as if expecting to see some horrid creature bounding down at her when she could feel a slight rumbling in the ground beneath her feet.

There were dull clangs reverberating on concrete and she quickly turned her head back to the window at just the right time. Something large and grotesque collided with the window with a spine-rattling _boom_ and she screamed, flying backwards and into a body behind her.

Hands steadied her at her biceps holding her in place and she watched with horror as a monster only her nightmares could conjure up roared before her on the other side of the glass. Its large mouth watered with saliva, sharp teeth glinting in what little light could be reflected and she found she was too terrified to move.

The hands squeezed her arms reassuringly as she trembled and Nick must've figured she had enough for he drew the ivy back across the window, hiding her from the monster's view. It didn't stop the screams though. She felt like she was going to be sick.

"What is that thing?" she asked, barely above a whisper, forcing the bile down her throat and wrapping her arms around her stomach.

"A Griever," said Nick. "They only come out at night and they live inside the maze."

Everything about this felt wrong. She didn't know what to make of it. Her mind didn't have the capacity to wrap itself around it. For a moment she retreated back to her earlier train of thought – _it's not real._

"How are they real?" she was mostly asking herself but Nick still answered.

"Hell if I know," he said, lip curling slightly. "We don't know much about them. Only that they have stingers."

She highly doubted they'd been able to examine one up close and knew there must've been a reason as to how they knew that.

"What happens if you get stung?"

Nick rubbed the back of his neck before crossing his arms across his chest.

"We call it the Changing. It's an infection that spreads from the inside out, turning you into this blood-thirsty thing. Only the serum can cure you but after that you're not the same."

She shuddered. "Serum?"

"It comes up with our supplies," he explained. "The Creators obviously know how these bastards work."

She felt faint. Whoever put them there must have also put the Grievers there as well. Maybe to study their interactions, how they co-existed. Either way, it was experimental and it made her absolutely nauseous to think of how cruel someone had to be to stick monsters with children just to see what happened.

"So that's what I heard last night," she muttered. _They only come out a night_. She looked up. "And none of them have ever gotten inside the Glade?"

"Never," Nick shook his head. "The only time they're really out is when the doors are closed and they can't climb the walls, they're too high."

None of that reassured her. The walls didn't make her feel protected, not in the slightest.

"How do you know about the stingers or the Changing then?"

"Sometimes the Runners don't get so lucky," was all he said.

All of it was a bad dream. A very vivid, very bad dream. She couldn't fathom a world where monsters existed and roamed free, preying on children and shrieking into the night. It sounded like something out of a terrifying storybook or an urban legend meant to scare kids into staying home when the sun went down. She remembered things like that from her past. It was nothing personal in relation to her, but she knew of fairytales and mythical creatures. She knew them as exactly what they were – fairytales and mythical creatures. Things one would read in fiction or see in a movie.

They weren't supposed to be real.

A voice sounded from behind her and she started, having forgotten the hands that continued to rest on her upper arms.

"Why'd you show her so soon?" asked Newt. "She's only been here two days."

Nick shrugged halfheartedly. "I figured she had the right to know."

She could almost hear Newt narrow his eyes. "That's never stopped you before."

Nick seemed on the verge of losing his patience, which surprised her because out of the few boys she'd met so far, he seemed the most laidback.

"Let's just say I'm trying something new, okay?" he snapped. Newt didn't respond and his hands lingered on her arms a few seconds longer before they fell away, his fingers tickling her skin before the contact was lost. She glanced warily at the window that remained behind the layer of ivy. Nick didn't need to ask in order to know what was troubling her. "Like I said, whatever lives on the other side of those walls… it stays there."

"Why is that window there in the first place?" she felt the need to ask. "Kind of a bold design choice don't you think?"

"I like to think the Creators just have a sick sense of humor," Nick told her. She was thinking along the same lines. An icy chill crept up her spine, nearly making her shiver. "Any questions?"

She eyed Newt who'd stepped forward to stand at her side.

"None you could probably answer," she said honestly.

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Fair enough."

He watched her for a moment and she stiffened.

It was really starting to grate on her nerves how often people stared at her, as if she were a specimen in a lab that needed to be studied. She often considered clearing her throat to break their gaze but she refrained, telling herself that it'd been months since they'd last seen a girl (to their knowledge anyway). She knew that had to have been at least half the logic behind their stares. In the back of her head she reminded herself that it didn't make them any less rude but she didn't know how to go about voicing that opinion out loud. Her memories may have been wiped clean but her manners certainly had not.

"Let's go," Nick said, forcing her out of her thoughts. "Get yourself something to eat and try not to worry about the Grievers."

They began their trek back towards the kitchens, the sky having darkened to such a degree that their only guides were the lit torches that circled the perimeter of the Glade's center where all the activity was taking place.

"Weird as it may sound, they're the least of our worries," said Nick a few seconds later, as if feeling the need to try and reassure her in some way. "We've just gotta get by one day at a time."

She absently played with her fingers as she walked between them.

"That's not really the easiest thing to do right now," she admitted softly.

"I don't blame you," said Nick. Newt dutifully remained silent but part of her felt as though he was only there for reassurance. She didn't quite know what for but she didn't dwell on it as it seemed to have been working. "How's Keeper's training coming along?" Nick eventually asked.

He didn't seem like the type of person who could stand long periods of silence, which drastically contrasted her and possibly even Newt. She'd shared a few moments of comfortable silence with him since they met. She figured it was one of the few things they had in common; the ability to let their quietness do the talking rather than their words.

"As well as to be expected, I guess. I didn't like working with the Slicers," she said carefully, hoping that it wouldn't somehow offend Nick. "I've discovered I'm not a fan of blood… or cutting dead animals open."

Nick hummed. "You probably won't enjoy working with the Med-Jacks tomorrow then. There's always someone who's cut themselves bloody," at her grimace he snickered a bit. "Just close your eyes and tell yourself it'll all be over soon."

She bit her lip. "I tried doing that earlier today but Newt kept asking me to get more fertilizer."

There was a pause before the two boys guffawed loudly and Newt stared at her with an open-mouthed grin, exposing the prominent laugh lines on either side of his lips. She felt a bit proud that she'd been able to take him by surprise.

"She makes jokes!" he announced as his eyes shined with mirth. Color flooded his face as he lit up and she decided that this was the most alive she'd seen him since their first meeting. "Cheeky this one," he said gleefully, nudging her playfully with his shoulder.

She quirked a half smile at the quick change in atmosphere as the tension began to fade away.

Nick chuckled and shook his head, eyes glowing with a hint of satisfaction. "You're going to be just fine, Greenie. You're going to be just fine."


	5. day five & ben

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

 ***Warning: This chapter may be upsetting to some people who are sensitive to any implications of or attempts at rape. There's no real imagery and it doesn't actually happen but I just thought I'd put this here just in case.**

* * *

 **day five—three years ago**

"I know you've been rinsing off in the river after training," said Nick the following afternoon.

She'd spent a fairly uneventful day with the Med-Jacks, Clint and Jeff, which she was not complaining about.

There were only two incidents that made her feel particularly nauseated. Once when a Builder came running into the tent nearly in tears because he'd accidentally crushed his finger with a hammer. It was bent in an odd angle at the first knuckle and she'd winced and flexed her hand the entire time Jeff was wrapping it in a makeshift split as if she could physically feel the injury. He gave the kid some ice and sent him on his way. She was surprised he actually went back to work and when she asked Clint if it was a good idea that he went back to work so soon he just shrugged and laughed.

The second time was when a Slicer casually mentioned over lunch that he accidentally cut the tip of his finger off with one of their saws and she choked on her vegetables as he held up the bloody finger, exposing mutilated flesh and the tip of bone. She yelled when Jeff jokingly asked her if she wanted to wrap his finger this time, considering she was in the middle of trying not to dry heave.

Back in the present she furrowed her brows at Nick's comment, feeling both surprised and flustered. How did he know she was rinsing off in the river? Was he watching her?

Nick threw his hands up in defense at the look on her face.

"I never saw you, Newt just said that that's where you've been going. He keeps an eye on you," she felt embarrassed by that and she didn't know why. Maybe it was because Nick, their 'leader' for all intents and purposes, knew someone was essentially babysitting her and was actually talking to him about it. "I just thought I'd fill you in on the little secret that is our public showers."

She was instructed to follow him with a change of clothes so she ran back to her hammock to grab the clothes hanging up along the wire that'd been cleaned the day before. Nick led her to the outhouses she'd seen in passing that stood a ways away from the Homestead.

"Sorry we don't have separate showers or anything," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly once they reached it. "In our defense you're the first girl we've had so it's never really been an issue. But there are separate stalls inside with doors so you should have enough privacy. The boys usually don't shower until after they eat because they're pigs if it's any consolation," he grinned and she quirked a half smile, clutching her fresh clothes tightly in a ball against her chest. Nick jumped a bit to move the tour along. "Well here, let me show you where everything is inside."

She followed him into the outhouse. It was fairly humid and dark but not so much so that it was impossible to see and smelled of fresh soap and stale water. Natural light was leaking in through a few small windows high on the wall above some water spigots that she assumed were meant to be sinks. The ground was littered with stagnant puddles of water and she assumed the area was never dry.

On the left side there extended a row of shower stalls each with their own doors. She peeked inside the nearest one and almost cringed at the confined space but at least it it'd provide her with some privacy.

"Each stall has some soap and shampoo, the usual stuff," Nick rattled off, stepping back as she glanced about the area. "Sorry if it smells kind of funky in here. There isn't much air flow and boys will be boys. We have rounds and people clean it when they can but sometimes we just forget," she offered him a brief smile at the halfhearted apology. "Well," Nick clapped his hands together, something she noticed he did often. "I guess I'll leave you to it then. We'll save you some food. There should be plenty of water so take your time, no need to rush."

He gave her shoulder blade a friendly pat before bidding her adieu and backing out of the building, the door closing with a creak behind him and drowning her in silence.

She sighed a little to herself, breath echoing faintly in the room. She relished in the quietness and realized this was probably the first time since she'd gotten there that she was actually by herself. The walls of the building blocked off any sound coming from the kitchens so for once she felt like she had some peace and quiet.

Though it probably wasn't the best that she was left alone to her thoughts, she didn't dwell on what happened with Newt the day before. He was right. If she wanted to survive she needed to learn to control her anxiety and stop worrying so much. _Easier said than done,_ the cynical part of her brain said, but she'd work on it.

She bit her lip, glancing cautiously at the closed door one last time before making her way towards the very back stall farthest from the door. She slipped inside and latched the door behind her, slight darkness engulfing her only for a second before her eyes adjusted and she was able to see what was around her. There were shelves balancing precariously on one side of the stall with half-empty sticky bottles of soaps and shampoos, half closed and the lids crusted with dry soap. Beneath where she stood laid a drain that had clumps of hair matted in the small grate.

That was probably one of the reasons the floor was so wet. All of the drains were most likely clogged.

She tentatively removed her clothes and swung them over the door so they didn't get wet. There was a knob resting on the wall adjacent from the door and she turned it. It was a little stiff and squeaked a bit but once she turned it enough, water began spurting out of the rusted shower head. She quickly adjusted the temperature so it was warm enough and then sighed in satisfaction as she let the water cascade down her face and soak her hair.

She went about her business pretty quick. She scrubbed her scalp and ran some shampoo through her hair twice because it felt shaggy and tangled. The water ran brown into the drain for a good five minutes before it cleared out and she grimaced, scrubbing her body clean until it turned pink with a clean loafer that was left with her at her hammock.

Once she was finished cleaning, she turned the knob and the water began to steam. She nearly shivered at the heat but she leaned forward, resting her hands against the wall as the water soothed the skin and muscles along her back. She closed her eyes tightly, allowed herself to just breathe and not think. The steam floated in waves and ascended through the air, comforting her sinuses whenever she breathed it in. It warmed her lungs, made them feel relaxed, and she rested her head against her arm feeling lethargic and sleepy.

Showering was quite therapeutic. It put her mind at ease and gave her something minimal and simplistic to focus on, helped relieve the slight pain behind her eyes that'd been there since day one. She idly wondered if in her past life she used showers as an escape. She'd forgotten how nice it felt to let the hot water pour over her skin as if it were physically washing away any worries or troubles she had. She wondered if she took really long showers, used up all the hot water until it ran icy cold, and made whoever she lived with mad because they were waiting to shower next. She felt like maybe she was that kind of person.

Wiping a hand across her eyes, she blinked passed the spray of the water and leaned her head back, allowing the water to soak her hair once more because she couldn't help herself. She ran her fingers through it, feeling how soft and silky it felt now that it was properly clean, and in the back of her mind she wondered if they'd left her a hair brush anywhere.

The creaking of a door opening stalled her movements and she froze, eyes opening wide to stare in dread at the wall in front of her.

She felt her skin crawl with an icy chill as she stood there, hearing slight footsteps squishing and squelching in the water as they walked through the room. The sound of running water at one of the spigots met her ears and she heard the sloshing of water as whoever it was washed their hands, humming a pleasant tune to themselves as they did so that managed to sound ominous in the echo of the room.

When the spigot shut off it was almost too quiet aside from the water that continued to run in her stall. She listened carefully and could faintly hear footsteps again except this time they were louder. She craned her neck towards the door, trying to discern where they were, until a loud knock on her stall caused her to gasp and jump away, nearly losing her footing on the wet ground and having to catch herself on the far wall.

"Hey Greenie, you in there?" a voice called.

She didn't recognize who it belonged to and when she glanced down she saw a pair of large, dirty boot-clad feet just on the other side of the door. She covered herself as much as she could as if they had x-ray vision.

"Um," her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "Y-yes, I'll be out in just a minute!"

The boots didn't move for a solid ten seconds but then they eventually slid out of view and she exhaled slowly, feeling herself shivering even though the water was still warm. She listened again, could hear them walking away, but she never heard the main door open. She furrowed her eyebrows once the footsteps faded out of range, asking herself if maybe she'd just missed hearing the door, but then the footsteps started up again and the further they moved, the louder they got.

She swallowed thickly when the boots reappeared at the base of her door.

"Hey, you know, I really need to talk to ya," they said.

She sucked in a breath again. "Okay, well, would you mind waiting for me outside? I'll only be a minute."

"Nah," the voice rang. "I really gotta talk to ya now."

Her heart was hammering painfully in her chest and she felt a little faint. "Okay, um, can you pass me my towel please? I think I left it out there."

There was a soft chuckle. "Sure."

More squishing and squelching, then a towel was tossed over the door and it landed on top of her already dangling clothes. She quickly grabbed it even though the water was still running. She covered the front of herself and leaned back around the flow of water to shakily turn the knob and the water stopped with a squeak. It was silent save for her ragged breathing and the calm breaths of whoever was on the other side of her door.

"Okay," she said again, this time quietly to herself.

She haphazardly tried to dry herself off as quickly as she could, not bothering with her hair and leaving it dripping down her back. She went to grab her clothes, only to have them jerked out of the way. She heard them lightly collide with the floor on the other side of the door, landing perfectly in a stale puddle and soaking up the dirty water.

"Oops, looks like you lost your clothes," they said laughingly with a hint of mockery. Her hand remained where it was, reaching for clothes that were no longer there. Her eyes were wide again, this time with horror. "I guess you'll have to come out here and get 'em. They're a little wet."

 _This can't be happening,_ she thought to herself. Goosebumps trailed along her skin and she found her arms and legs were shaking. She felt icy cold, both inside and out, and she closed her eyes quickly, willing everything to just stop. She could just refuse to open the door until they went away but she had a feeling they wouldn't be so easily dismissed.

"I'm waiting," they sang.

Her eyes snapped back open.

With unsteady hands, she wrapped the towel as tightly around herself as she possibly could. It only reached mid-thigh and she tried pulling it down, only to have it reveal too much of her chest and she had to pull it back up. She wiped her hair out of her eyes and took a deep breath before carefully unlatching the door.

The second the lock released the door swung open and she jumped, clutching the towel tightly to herself as the cold breeze of the room flooded into her stall all at once.

She was met with a boy with long, ratty blonde hair she couldn't remember ever seeing before. He was about as tall as she was, but what he lacked in height he made up for in girth. He was a bit on the heavy side, looking to be half muscle and half fat, and his red cheeks were sweaty as he gazed at her openly with no shame. She just wanted to curl up into herself until she disappeared.

"Well, well, well," he leered, words flowing like poisonous honey. "Looks like the Creators did something good for us after all."

She felt sick to her stomach and her hands were nearly shaking too much for her to keep the towel up. He stepped up to her slowly and she quickly backed away until she was forced against the wall of the stall and he stood blocking her only exit.

"Please," she said quietly. "Please, don't…"

"Don't what?" he smirked. He stepped into the stall with her. "Just wanna have a little fun. It's so boring here, ya know? You're the most interesting thing that's ever happened to this place."

"Please," she said again. "I don't want any trouble."

"No?"

"Honest," she tried not to sound desperate. "I won't tell anyone. I won't say a word if you just—"

"If I just… what?"

"Please," she was starting to sound like a broken record but she had no idea what else to do, what else to say. He slowly lifted a foot and began closing the distance between them. She shrunk back further against the wall.

He gave her a pout. "You want me to leave?"

Tears stung her eyes. "Yes."

His lower lip jutted out, making him look half his age. "Why?"

"You're scaring me," she whispered. Her teeth began to chatter, a result of the adrenaline and the draft, and his eyes narrowed on her lips.

"Are you cold?" he asked, for a moment sounding concerned. She didn't respond and a snakelike grin appeared on his face. "Let me warm you up."

He lurched forward so suddenly she wasn't able to react, grabbing onto her arm roughly with his large hand and yanking her forward. His nails sunk into her flesh and she yelped, trying to pull away. His lip curled and he tugged hard causing her to stumble forward. Her bare feet slipped on the wet ground and she fell, slamming into the slippery floor with a wince as he backed out of the way, not bothering to catch her fall. He dropped to his knees and grabbed onto her shoulders, dragging her up until she was on her knees. Her elbows stung from hitting the ground and she tried backing away from him, using her wet skin to her advantage.

He growled when she slithered out of his grip and she quickly pulled her leg out from underneath her to smack her foot into his jaw. He howled, falling back and clutching his face. Her foot was sore but she ignored it and attempted to right herself and stand by grabbing onto one of the stalls for support. He growled at this, wiping the blood from his lip and darting forward to grab onto her towel.

He gave it one forceful tug and the towel pulled free. The air was twice as cold now that she didn't have a buffer against it and natural instinct caused her to drop into a fetal position in hopes of covering herself up, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He leapt for her, shadows covering her face as he hovered at her side and she screamed as loud as she could, the high-pitched sound reverberating off of the walls and making her ears ring. She cried and sobbed and begged him to stop as he grabbed her wherever he could, his eyes wide and unseeing. His hands stung wherever he touched her like his fingers were on fire and she felt like she was going to throw up. Her throat was sore and raw as she screamed, slapping his hands away and kicking with all her might, occasionally nailing him in the gut with her knee or kicking his hip.

It felt like hours had gone by before the door to the outhouse slammed open, colliding loudly with the wall beside it and nearly cracking the doorframe. A herd of footsteps slapped against the wet ground and something was shouted before another body struck the boy in the side and knocked them both to the ground.

She nearly choked on her tongue and pulled herself up onto her elbows, crawling away from the two as they wrestled and fought on the floor. She wrapped herself into a tight ball against the stall closest to her, out of sight from the open door and covering herself with her arms as her knees curled up into her chest.

More figures appeared in the doorway, talking quickly amongst themselves and she covered her tear-stained face.

"Son of a bitch," the boy who'd tackled her attacker spat and there was a loud crack followed by a strangled wail. Then the boy shouted, "Get him!" and more footsteps echoed and rang in her ears. "Take him to Nick!"

She heard someone being dragged bodily out of the room. She carefully uncovered her eyes with trembling hands and saw a boy panting a few feet away from her on his knees. His hair was completely disarrayed, midnight black in color with olive skin to compliment it and a sharp face. He had a wild look in his eye, shoulders squared as he turned his piercing gaze to hers. His features were prominent and very much Korean and his gaze slackened a bit when he saw her.

"Hey, it's alright…"

He reached for her, hand managing to rest carefully on her wet shoulder only for a second before she yelled, "Don't touch me! _Don't touch me!_ " and he yanked his hand away like lightning as if she'd burned him.

"Okay, okay!" he shouted back, voice hoarse.

His shirt was soaked with water and his jaw sported a purpling bruise. He pointedly kept his hands away from her and she stuttered in a deep breath, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he hastily reached for her discarded towel that was sitting a few feet away. After a moment of hesitation he offered the towel to her and she snatched it out of his hand, covering herself quickly as he pointedly looked anywhere but her eyes whenever his gaze was aimed in her direction.

"Minho?" someone shouted.

Footfalls were padding against the grass outside and then a shadow loomed on the floor in front of her as someone else entered the room.

"Bloody hell," they breathed and she could recognize the accent anywhere. Newt's feet appeared in her line of sight and Minho made a sound of disapproval.

"She needs some space, man," he said, coughing a bit as he pushed himself up from his knees. His pants were soaked through, clinging to his legs in several places and Newt's gaze flickered between the two of them like he was trying to put two and two together.

"What the hell happened?" Newt demanded.

"Ray happened," said Minho, flexing his jaw experimentally.

"Slimy git," Newt's lip curled.

She sniffed a bit as she tried readjusting herself on the tile. She felt cold and sore all over, her spine protesting at the awkward ankle she was sitting in.

"Get her some more towels," Newt said stiffly, carefully making his way towards her. Minho gave her one last look before doing as he was told.

"Hey," said Newt, kneeling down in front of her at a respectable distance.

Her teeth were chattering but she forced the annoying tick down to spit, "I _hate_ it here," with red-rimmed eyes before the chattering started again and she couldn't speak. She stuffed her head into her knees, shoulders shaking.

Newt's face scrunched up as he gazed at her with sorrowful eyes.

"I know," he muttered before Minho returned with a handful of towels. Newt accepted them and then glanced down at her forgotten clothes that were soaked through. "Get her some new clothes, those aren't going to work."

Minho stared. "Those are her only other pair, she doesn't have any more."

"Well then get some of my clothes," Newt snapped and Minho's gaze lingered on his face for a second longer before giving a brisk nod and walking back out of the room. "And don't let anyone else in!" Newt shouted after him. Minho closed the door behind him in response.

A towel was draped over her shoulders and she jumped in response. She didn't have to look up to feel the pathetic look Newt was giving her.

"Here, you should dry up. C'mon, greenbean," he outstretched a hand to her as he stood and she shivered beneath the mountain of towels before a frail hand reached out from within the cocoon and carefully grasped his hand.

She made sure she was completely covered before he helped her to her feet and she winced at the bruises she felt forming along her back and down her arms.

"Go on into the stall," Newt instructed quietly. "Dry off. I'll hand you some clothes over the door."

She did as he asked and latched the door closed behind her again. She numbly went about drying herself off, feeling her eyes burn and itch from the tears that dried on her face. When Minho returned with a fresh pair of clothes, Newt handed them to her over the door and she dressed herself in clothes that were slightly too big for her but nevertheless still warm and dry.

Newt guided her out of the outhouse about ten minutes later after she felt comfortable enough with leaving. He stayed near her as they walked to the Homestead where Nick, Alby, and one of the Med-Jacks were waiting for her. Minho walked along in front of them, wordlessly acting as some sort of a bodyguard that made her feel even more mortified. She saw a spot of dried blood on the back of his neck and wondered if maybe he'd hit his head during the fight with 'Ray'. She would have to thank him for that later.

That night Nick called a meeting for all the Gladers and made a new rule.

No one was to enter the outhouse whenever she was in there and if someone did there would be consequences. Those consequences weren't specified, at least not to her, but it was left open and the Gladers seemed to interpret it for what it was. A threat. Ray was sentenced to one week in isolation with no food the first day and it was obvious Nick was using him as a warning.

She didn't feel satisfied that what happened that day would never happen again. Rules were made to be broken and that one was no exception. But even still, she pulled Newt's shirt tighter around her body and the smell that was distinctly him wafted into her nose, providing her with some level of comfort despite the angry red marks on her arm that formed a large handprint.

* * *

 **present day—the glade**

Ben had been stung.

Amy was sitting with Gally and a few of the other Builders near the dimming fire when she heard the shriek.

It was like nails on a chalkboard and all noise ceased within the Glade, air thick with tension as every conversation was cut short. There was another shriek, followed by rushed voices and what sounded like a bit of a struggle and the clambering of metal before all went silent again.

Clint was nowhere to be seen but Jeff, the other Med-Jack, was standing nearby and he took off into a sprint towards the Med-Jack tent. Gally was half standing, half crouching as he watched Jeff's retreating form with stiff shoulders and Amy nearly stood as well before Newt emerged from the tent and started making his way to them, wiping his brow with a shaky hand.

Gally finally stood straight and Amy forced herself into position next to him, heart racing beneath her shirt.

About half of the Glade had already retired to bed for the night but those who remained chattered hastily amongst themselves and demanded what was going on once Newt approached them. Newt shook his head, waving them off and telling them to slim it and turn in for the night because Alby would talk to them about it in the morning. The Gladers exchanged looks behind his back as he ambled towards Gally and Amy slowly, dragging his feet as if they were made of lead.

"What happened?" Gally demanded before Newt could open his mouth.

Newt looked like he tasted something sour.

"It's Ben," he said and there was a beat of silence before, "He was stung."

Amy's eyes widened as her heart clenched. "When?"

He ran his hand along the back of his neck and exhaled, keeping his voice low and head bowed to deter any eavesdroppers. "In the maze today."

"But he was fine at dinner," Amy said with furrowed brows. She shook her head. "I don't understand. I thought the Changing happened almost instantly."

"Not always," said Gally pointedly and she swallowed. "Where is he now?"

"Med-Jacks," answered Newt. "They're working on giving him the serum now but he's not making it easy. He's talking a bunch of nonsense, yapping about how 'the evil' is here. I think he's lost it."

Gally's jaw clenched and Amy watched his face carefully but she was unable to read the expression there.

With steely determination, Gally stomped with a purpose towards the Med-Jack tent and Amy was quick to follow while Newt trailed after them like he was walking in quick sand to stall his return. They reached the tent and Gally marched down the narrow crumpled hallway, following the whimpers and deep, ragged breaths until he reached the fullest room. Amy cautiously rounded the corner, playing with her fingers absently as she licked her lips, drinking in the sight with a ball of dread curling in the pit of her stomach.

She felt a stab of grief pierce her heart as she watched Jeff and Alby try to restrain Ben as Clint prepared the serum. Ben's limbs were thrashing around viciously, occasionally nailing Alby in the shin with his shoes and one of the med carts had already been tipped over, stained rags and vials scattered precariously under their feet.

Alby's back was to her but she could nearly hear him gritting his teeth as he tried to console Ben who had a wild look in his black eyes. His pale skin was nearly translucent as thick, black veins pulsated along his arms and up the curve of his neck. He glimmered with sweat, dirty blonde hair matted to his forehead as he growled and hissed between slurred words Amy couldn't understand. She'd never seen such a violent look on his face before: teeth barred, brows pulled low into a fierce glare, a string of spit stretching from his bottom lip down to his chin.

He didn't even look human.

She felt a little sick as she watched Clint approach the bed, serum at the ready as he begged them to hold Ben as steady as they could. She'd never seen someone go through the Changing up close before, never seen how much it poisoned their mind and body. She hadn't even been allowed in the room when Gally went through it.

Footsteps padded down the hall, sideswiping her with a brief touch against her back as she continued to lean against the doorway. She peeled her eyes away from the scene with a bit of effort and was met with familiar brown eyes that gazed intently into hers. Newt pursed his lips and broke the eye contact to watch the events unfold.

"Minho," said Amy suddenly. "He's—?"

"Fine," Newt said, crossing his arms over his chest. "He's just outside. Needs some time to think."

Amy nodded, biting her lip before another shriek pierced the air. It was so high-pitched that it shocked her nervous system and she jumped. The bed Ben was hanging over gave one last shudder before the boy stopped flailing and all noise faded into dense silence.

"Jesus Christ," Jeff muttered, peeling himself away. He left red handprints behind on Ben's arm from where he'd gripped him so tight.

Alby continued leaning over the boy who'd fallen comatose after the injection for a minute or two longer before pushing away, straightening his spine with a crack. He breathed deeply a few times before turning a bit to face everyone else to see if they were okay and his eyes fell on Amy who shrunk a bit at his gaze. She probably wasn't supposed to be in there but she hadn't been able to stop watching, could still feel her legs rooted to the ground.

Alby did a quick sweep of the room and he grabbed a dry washcloth that hadn't been knocked over on one of the shelves. He outstretched it to her and she hesitated before taking it carefully.

"Can you get that wet for me and maybe grab him some water?" Alby asked.

She knew that was his way of politely asking her to leave and she nodded, backing out of the room with one last look at Ben who was almost too still for comfort.

Amy exited the tent and immediately inhaled the fresh air, feeling as though her lungs hadn't been able to get enough oxygen while she was inside. She took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes for a couple seconds to ease her mind. She then sighed before taking a step forward, only to see Minho kneeling just on the other side of the tent, back hunched as he crouched with his head bowed and his hands in his hair.

She watched him for a good thirty seconds, mouth pursed in a thin line, before he stood slowly, placing his hands on his hips as he tilted his head back and breathed deeply. Amy edged towards him and he tiredly brought his head down to face her upon hearing her shoes in the grass, eyes red-rimmed and jaw taut.

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stared at her for a moment, throat working as he swallowed before giving her a tiny nod. She squeezed his shoulder once before backing away to give him space. He didn't move.

She didn't rush as she made her way to the water spigot. It scared her to think about how the maze was slowly working its way through the Glade, gradually eating away at the boys and taking their sanity with it like a cancer.

She knew the maze was sick, diseased. But after a while she'd managed to draw comfort in its walls because in a way it protected them. It was like a slap in the face whenever someone got stung or hurt because then they'd bring the sickness in with them and it made her realize how easy it would be for the Grievers to just take it all away.

It reminded her that they were never safe. The Creators were always watching, always listening, were always one step ahead of them.

Amy had to remember that all of this was still a game they were playing and they weren't on the winning side.


	6. the evil & amelia

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

* * *

 **present day**

Amy took her time soaking the rag in the water spigot.

She grabbed a cup from the kitchen on her way there and after squeezing the excess water out of the washcloth she filled the cup with water before beginning her slow trek back to Med-Jack. She hadn't heard anything unusual ever since she left which must've meant Ben was healing.

In the back of her mind she wondered how he would act when he woke up. She knew the Changing did more than just spread poison. It made people remember things—things from before the maze ever happened, snippets of their old lives. People they weren't anymore. It was a chilling thought but she knew he'd never be the same.

When she approached the tent, Minho was gone. She could hear hushed voices coming from within the tent and she paused just outside the threshold of the entrance, straining her ears to try and hear what they were saying. After a minute or two she gave up and cautiously made her way inside, unsure if she'd be welcomed back so soon or not but also knowing that the cool washcloth and water were things Ben needed.

The boy was trembling on the bed when she stepped inside the room like he was suffering from a fever he couldn't shake. The once black veins had faded into a grey-pink but they were still visible underneath his pale skin. His cheeks had slightly regained their color but for the most part he didn't look like he improved much.

Alby stopped talking the minute he saw her and Amy felt like she'd intruded on a private moment but she held up the rag and water. Alby nodded in thanks and she dropped her arms, still holding the items loosely in her hands.

"How's he doing?" she asked quietly.

Alby glanced wearily over at Ben before shaking his head. "I don't know."

"Did it not work?" she felt nervous of the answer. The serum always worked.

"It did," said Alby, folding his arms across his chest. "But he's still in a state. He keeps going on about the same thing, over and over again just whispering it."

"About the evil stuff?" she asked, taking a few careful steps towards the bed. Alby twitched a bit when she got too close for comfort and she smiled a sort of half-smile. "I can take care of this, I don't mind," she held up the cloth and water again. Alby hesitated.

"Just be careful. I don't think he's completely lucid yet."

Amy pulled one of the stools closer to the boy's bedside and sat the cup of water on one of the nearby shelves before folding the rag. She then carefully placed the damp cloth on his forehead and his face spasmed a bit before settling. She put slight pressure on the rag, hoping its cool temperature would help.

With some effort Ben's eyes slowly opened, glossy and red. Amy felt a little more relieved to see that his natural hazel eye color had returned. It took a moment for him to regain his bearings but his eyes eventually shifted to meet hers.

"Hey buddy," she said with a calm smile. It looked a bit like he was seeing right through her but she kept talking anyway. "How're you feeling? Any better?"

Ben murmured something, mouth working to form proper words. She leaned forward a bit to try and listen.

"Evil," he said breathlessly. She pulled back, forehead creased tightly. "He's evil," Ben whispered again. "Please… you have to believe me."

"Who is?" Amy asked with a deep frown.

Two figures stepped closer to her nervously.

"Amy…" Minho muttered but she ignored him.

" _He_ is," Ben said, voice weak but intense. Amy didn't understand.

"No one here is going to hurt you," she tried to reassure him, stroking his hairline above the rag with her thumb. His hazel eyes shimmered in the warm glow of the lanterns as he gazed up at her with a sense of urgency. There was a haunted look in his eye that alarmed her.

"Gonna hurt all of us," he stuttered before releasing a few painful coughs that wracked his chest.

She wanted to say more, try to soothe him as much as she could because the way he looked at her made her heart feel like it was shattering into millions of tiny pieces, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She lifted her head up to see Alby standing by her side, gaze resting intently on Ben's haggard breathing as he whimpered and whined, " _He's evil, he's evil, he's evil…_ "

"I don't understand what's wrong with him," Amy watched as the boy's eyes fell closed again, eyelids twitching every few seconds like a nightmare was consuming him.

"It's just what the Changing does," Alby replied quietly. His voice was sympathetic but his eyes were guarded like he was waiting for Ben to start lashing out again. "C'mon, we won't know anything for sure until in the morning."

With Alby's persistent hand on her upper arm, she stood from the stool and placed the cup of water on top of it for easy access in case Ben got thirsty. She let Alby guide her around the bed and she came to rest next to Minho who continued to watch the boy he'd been running with for years with a clenched jaw and dark eyes. Amy reached down to grasp his hand firmly in hers and her lips twitched upward when he returned the grip.

Gally then quietly crept into the room, taking a stand on Minho's other side and Amy released Minho's hand in favor of resting her hands inside her pants pockets instead. Minho's empty hand closed into a tight fist.

"No change?" Gally asked.

"Not so far," Minho said stiffly, still watching the boy as he descended into a fitful sleep.

"Still saying the same thing?"

Amy felt like Gally knew something everyone else didn't. The question was redundant because even though Gally was anything but an open book, she could see it in his eyes that he already knew the answer.

"'He's evil,'" Alby repeated Ben's words. He took Amy's previous spot next to Ben and attempted to rouse the boy so he could drink.

Amy kept a close eye on Gally and something twisted in her gut at the look on his face.

"You know who he's talking about," she said, causing him to glance over at her. "Don't you?"

Gally bit the inside of his cheek, hands resting on his hips again and he seemed deep in thought.

"The Greenie," he finally said.

Amy was confused. "Thomas?"

"It's him," Gally said. Alby was distracted by holding Ben's head up so he could swallow the water and Minho was distracted by the pained look on Ben's face as he tried to drink. Only Amy seemed to hear what Gally was saying. "I know it's him," Gally continued, looking back at her with a twisted expression. "Because when I first saw the kid, I thought the same thing."

Amy tilted her head as if the movement would physically help her understand.

"What, that he's evil?" she asked incredulously.

"I don't trust him," Gally raised his voice a bit. Amy's mouth moved but no words came out and she ended up looking like a fish as she tried to find a logical way to respond. It bothered her that she really didn't know how to talk to Gally anymore, not after what happened.

"Why?" she finally asked.

Gally rolled his eyes and said coldly, "You wouldn't understand."

She really hated when people said that to her but she didn't get a chance to retort because Ben started moaning again and Alby tried to soothe him by turning over the washcloth

"Let's give him some time," Alby said, adjusting the rag on Ben's forehead before standing. The boy seemed to be slowly falling asleep.

Alby circled around the bed and gestured towards the hallway. Amy eyed Gally out of her peripherals before leaving the room. Before Minho left fully, Alby stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and gave him a comforting look.

"I'll run the maze with you tomorrow," he murmured and Minho gave a slight nod.

Once outside Gally traipsed coolly past everyone, slightly shoving Amy's shoulder with his as he side-passed her and she glared at the back of his head as he headed for the Homestead. She rubbed her shoulder even though it hadn't physically hurt as she watched him disappear into the hut.

The action stung and she couldn't help but curse Gally for his stubbornness. Before the Changing his stubbornness had just been a natural part of him, endearing even, but now it made him nearly impossible to get along with and she hated it. Now he'd probably give her the toughest jobs or hold the sunscreen hostage for the next week until he eventually got over it and started speaking to her again.

Alby watched him go with furrowed brows but Minho only rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna go use the showers," Minho said. She tugged on his shirt sleeve fondly because it was the closest thing in reach and his lips quirked into a ghost of a smile before he headed off in the direction of the outhouse, pulling his tucked shirt out of his pants as he went.

A brief silence engulfed her and Alby before she looked over at him curiously.

"Hey Alby, you know where Thomas is? The Greenie?"

Alby pointed vaguely in the direction of the Homestead. "Should be over by the hammocks. Chuck's with him tonight."

Amy nodded to herself, pursing her lips. She felt the need to pay him a visit.

"Thanks Alby," she smiled softly. "See you later."

Alby gave her a two-fingered salute and she smiled a little because it was a trait he'd picked up from Nick that always stuck.

She took her time in approaching the hammocks. It felt nice outside considering the circumstances and there was idle chatter echoing from within the Homestead and carrying out into the canopies where the hammocks rested underneath. The newer kids were under a separate canopy than hers furthest from the Homestead and she weaved through the strewn shoes and baskets until she reached the other section.

Amy had a feeling that her need to greet the Greenies was clearly a sign that Newt had rubbed off on her. She wasn't a heartless person; she cared about all the boys so it's not like it wasn't a thought that naturally crossed her mind. She had an infinite desire to make sure that everyone around her was alright. But she had her own personal theory about herself that she was never one to approach someone so freely in her past life. Something deep in her gut told her she just wasn't that kind of person. Maybe she'd been shy? Maybe she didn't really have an interest to? She wasn't sure. But it was a thought that sort of lingered in the forefront of her mind whenever a new kid was brought up in the Box. It made her realize that even though their situation wasn't ideal, it still changed them as people. Maybe for the better.

A few lanterns were lit and scattered about the area like constellations. Faint snores were on the air and whispers followed in the breeze from those who were still awake. She rounded the section that housed the newest of the new and saw Thomas lying in his hammock across from Chuck who was chatting animatedly with wild hand gestures and all. The Greenie looked to only be half paying attention as his eyes watched the maze walls. Chuck was oblivious to the fact that half of his words weren't even registering to Thomas.

Smiling a little to herself, Amy took a few more steps into the light of the lantern that hung above Thomas' hammock. Chuck abruptly stopped talking once she got close enough and she laughed inwardly to herself at the deer-in-headlights look on his face. Who knew what he was telling poor Thomas but by how wide his little eyes were, it must've been something Amy wasn't supposed to hear.

"Hi boys," she greeted, tossing a friendly smile in Thomas' direction who perked up a bit at the sound of someone else's voice.

"Hey Amy," Chuck said, grinning nervously. "You didn't happen to hear any of that, did ya?"

"Hear what?" she asked innocently and the kid's grin relaxed.

"Okay good," he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm just gonna go… yeah," he stuttered a bit before sliding off his hammock, evidently in search of someone else's ear to talk off.

She smirked a bit before returning her gaze to Thomas who looked relieved to finally have a bit of peace. He swung his legs over the side of his hammock until his mostly-clean shoes touched the grass beneath it as he waited for her to speak.

Amy pointed to the empty half of his hammock. "Mind if I sit?"

Thomas jumped a little before moving over a bit more to give her room.

"Guess it's the least I could do," he said and she chuckled a little before closing the distance between them to take a seat next to him. The hammock rocked a bit and the two of them let it swing.

"Chuck's a very sweet kid and he means well but he doesn't really know when to stop talking," she laughed a bit. "I guess it's good to know that he's in such high spirits all the time."

Thomas nodded and played with his fingers. "Yeah," was all he said.

Amy bit the inside of her cheek. She could feel the awkward tension building and she had to remember that the Greenie probably didn't feel the most comfortable around her because they'd hardly spoken. It'd gotten to the point now where she didn't consider boundaries a necessity because all the Gladers had naturally transformed into one another's surrogate family. She forgot that the newbies didn't really feel that sort comradery at first and weren't always so willing to be accepted into that family.

"How're you holding up so far?" she went with asking. "Is it the perfect vacation spot you always dreamed of or what?" she spread her arms dramatically and it elicited a small laugh out of the boy that ended up sounding more like a huff through his nose than anything else.

"I guess I wouldn't really know, would I?" he asked rhetorically and she tilted her head a bit, considering.

"Fair point," she agreed.

They sat in amiable silence for another minute or two. Thomas constantly kept glancing up at the maze walls and Amy couldn't deny that he was considerably more curious than any other Greenie. Most of them would avoid looking at the walls and spend their first few weeks in a little protective bubble, blocking out all the bad stuff and pretending the maze didn't exist until they inevitably learned to accept it and move on. It sort of made her wonder why more weren't as curious as he was. It was a natural thing, wasn't it? To want to know more? She figured everyone else just didn't have the initiative to ask the deep questions.

She wondered how he did, or why, but came to her own conclusion that it didn't really matter.

"You know," she said quietly. "You can tell me you hate it here and it won't hurt my feelings. I'd actually say you were pretty spot on."

Thomas huffed again and shook his head.

"I just can't wrap my head around the fact that we're stuck here," he said. "Or that you've been searching the maze for years for a way out and haven't found anything yet. Or that the Grievers exist and they apparently sting people. I don't…" he trailed off, eyes glossing over as a faraway look shadowed his face.

"Believe it?" she finished for him.

"Don't _want_ to believe it," he corrected her, finally turning his gaze to meet hers. He had a very boyish face with kind eyes, all sharp edges and clear skin. She had a feeling he was older than her but that could've just been the mature way he held himself. "I guess it doesn't help that no one seems to care either. Everyone's already used to this place – people have jobs, there's an _order_. And yet these things are just apparently waiting outside for one of us to run by and the people who put us here are watching it all happen."

Amy picked at the skin around her nails. "Kind of messed up, huh?"

Thomas chuckled dryly. "Understatement."

She smiled.

"You probably won't believe me when I tell you this since I didn't when I first heard it," she started and Thomas watched her, listening. "But someone once told me it does get easier. Not better, but easier. I know it's kind of a cliché thing to say but after a while everything here just becomes the norm. You get into a routine and you're able to forget about all of those things—the Grievers and the Creators. You can just focus on your jobs and pretend that everything's alright. Until something happens that reminds you of it all again."

Thomas gave her a look.

"That's exactly why it's _not_ normal," he said and though he was mostly serious, there was an underlying hint of mockery in his words that made her guffaw.

"Okay Mister Glass-Half-Empty," Amy said and Thomas cracked a half-smile. "I guess I'll let those comments slide for now since you've barely been here twenty-four hours. Technically you're handling this a lot better than I did so I'll give you that."

"How long have you been here?" Thomas questioned after leaning down to pluck up some blades of grass. He let most of them fall and they watched them cascade through the breeze before he settled one between his fingers, playing absently with it.

"About three years now I guess," she said after doing the math in her head. "A few dozen boys have been brought here since me. But the Homestead was already full when I got here, though not all the same boys are still here," she frowned a bit, brief glimpses of old but familiar faces flashing through her mind. Nick was among them, along with a boy named Eric. "Others just aren't the same anymore," Gally, soon to be Ben.

"And you don't know why you're the only girl?" asked Thomas. She shook her head. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"Yes," she said honestly. "But there's no way to find out why they chose me. There might not even be a reason."

"If there's one thing I've learned about this place," said Thomas with raised eyebrows, "it's that it's all about routine. Everything's always the same."

"Yeah, but they like to shake things up sometimes to make it interesting. I think the one thing they like more than routine is to keep us on our toes," she poked her skin through a tear in her pants. "I have this theory that whenever they think we've gotten too comfortable they throw us a curveball to put us on edge again."

"That's comforting," he quipped.

" _Anyway_ ," she laughed a little, figuring it'd probably be best to steer clear of conversations like that while he was still so new. "Do you know what job you're going to start for Keeper training tomorrow?"

Thomas squinted a little. "I think I'm working with Newt. The Gardens, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah. You're lucky, it's probably the easiest job here. Unless you have sensitive skin like me and burn after being in the sun for five minutes," Thomas cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "Newt always goes easy on the Greenies. You'll be fine."

Thomas gave her a curious look. "You guys are close, huh?"

"Me and Newt? Yeah," she shrugged. "You kind of have to be. It helps you survive, being close to someone. But after a while everyone just ends up being your family since you don't really have anyone else, you know? That you remember, anyway."

Thomas seemed hesitant. "You really don't remember anything? About yourself or who you were?"

Amy's lips turned downward. "No."

She leaned back against the hammock and Thomas waited a few seconds before mirroring her and they faced each other.

"I've gotten flashes of things before," she told him, "but nothing that's made sense. Whenever I smell the sunscreen I can sort of feel sand between my toes, telling me that I've been to a beach before. I hear this faint echo of laughter in my head sometimes when I eat ham. It makes me think of a bunch of people sitting around a table for dinner," she shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. Thomas seemed fully absorbed in her words, listening carefully and latching on to every detail. "Stuff like that. I never see any faces or remember any names. Nothing besides my own."

Thomas was clearly troubled by that and Amy couldn't blame him. The flashes made her uncomfortable, unsettled. As odd as it sounded, she didn't like when she got them. A small part of her didn't want to remember. She didn't know why that was.

"The serum makes you remember," she said suddenly and Thomas' head jerked up.

"Serum? Like for the Grievers?" he asked. There was an anxiousness in his voice she didn't like.

"Yes but you have to get stung first before you can take it," she said and he deflated a bit at that. Amy narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't do anything stupid," she warned him honestly. "You've only just got here. Try to blend in a little first before you decide to do something reckless that'll tick off the Creators."

She meant it as a joke but that bad feeling she had earlier was weighing heavy in her stomach again. She wondered briefly if maybe she shouldn't have told him about the serum but forced the thought away.

Surely he wasn't stupid enough to do something like get himself stung on purpose.

* * *

 **day six—three years ago**

 _She was in the Glade._

 _It was either the middle of the night or it was very dark, she couldn't tell. She looked from side to side in confusion._

 _In the darkness her eyes weren't able to focus on much but she could easily tell that she was standing in an empty, open field. The buildings were gone, as were the hammocks. The forestry still rested on the far end of the Glade but something didn't seem right. The area was too open. Her mind didn't let her concern herself with the missing buildings or even why she was standing there alone. Instead, she found herself incredibly uneasy and it took a good minute before she realized why that was._

 _The maze walls… they were gone. The land was open, a free for all._

 _She felt panicked as she jerked forward at the realization, circling around slowly as if expecting to find a Griever waiting for her on the edge of the deep horizon. Something unpleasant tingled in her gut, an unnerving sense of foreboding. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end like a wave of electricity had circuited through the air. The atmosphere crackled and flickered and she was shocked into stillness at the lightning strikes that lit up the sky. They cast an eerie glow over the field, lighting it up for a split second before it all went dark again_

 _As she turned to face the woods lightning flashed again and something silver glowed between the tree trunks. She narrowed her eyes, muscles tensing up in suspicion._

 _Lightning flickered overhead again and her eyes widened as they caught sight of a long, thin metallic leg. She was paralyzed, feet rooted to the dry grass with a fear that locked up her joints. Another leg appeared, and another, and another, until the entire lower half of the beast was exposed. An unsettling shadow cast itself upon the creature's upper half obscuring it from her sight, but beneath the haze a glowing pair of white eyes gleamed dangerously even when the sky was black and her breathing hitched._

 _What did she do? What was she supposed to do?_

' _Run, Amelia…'_

 _She flinched, tossing her head about as she heard the voice whisper in her ear. Where did it come from? Was it speaking to her?_

' _Run, Amelia…' it hissed again. 'Run and don't look back…'_

 _She stopped short. The voice was coming from inside her head._

 _The creature's legs clicked before whirring to life. Their heavy footfalls stomped on the ground, shaking the earth beneath them as it darted straight for her._

 _With a guttural roar it snapped at her. She gasped and pulled her legs free from the soil, slipping in place slightly before she was able to turn and start running. She felt a scream bubble in her throat as she felt its nasty wet breath on her neck._

' _Run, Amelia, run, run, run….'_

With a strangled gasp she darted upright, heart plunging into her throat as she felt the hammock swing shakily beneath her, throwing off her equilibrium.

She quickly steadied herself before she put a hand to her chest, coughing slightly at the adrenaline that raced through her veins. She felt hot and sweaty and like she couldn't get enough air in her lungs. Her eyes felt weak and tired as she squinted into the night. The canopy still sheltered her from above, a few boys were sleeping in the hammocks around her, and she was able to see the silhouette of the Homestead off in the distance. The maze walls were still there barricading them within it and for once she felt relieved they were there.

She placed a trembling hand on her forehead. The dream disturbed her. She felt jumpy and on high alert even though her body begged for her to go back to sleep. She didn't bother trying. Instead she dwelled on what she had seen. She'd never felt so terrified knowing that a Griever was on her tail, salivating at the thought of her, its jaws snapping to life in her wake as she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Her throat felt raw and she idly wondered if she'd screamed in her sleep but logic dictated that the boys would have been woken up by it.

She waited for her heart rate to calm down. She kept a hand on her chest until she felt comfortable with pulling it away. She took a moment to lean back in her hammock, the exhaustion weighing her down until an unnatural snarl echoed within the maze and she was forced up again by the all too familiar sound that clenched like a vice around her heart.

She felt hopeless and lost and so very much alone even if she could hear the snores of the boys surrounding her. She felt like she hadn't slept in months and her body was nearly running on empty. It was hard for her to gather a coherent though and she felt bitter and fragile

The more she was left with her thoughts the more she had time to reflect on what had happened earlier that day with Ray. She could still feel his hands on her skin, burning handprints into her flesh as he forced her onto the ground. It made her feel physically sick and she had to force the memory back into the deep recesses of her mind before she panicked. Then there was that odd shifting of concrete that she'd heard on her first night rattling beyond the maze walls, pulling her out of her disturbing thoughts.

It wasn't pleasant background noise and before she knew what she was doing, she tossed her legs over the edge of the hammock and felt her toes curl around the blades of grass beneath her feet. It was cold out, the breeze nipping at her sweat-soaked cheeks and chilling her to the bone. She couldn't just sit there anymore.

She quickly snatched up her blanket and wrapped it around herself like a cloak. Her bare feet padded silently along the grass. Her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and she was able to find her way around wayward logs and work benches that were scattered haphazardly around the area.

Before she knew it she reached the Homestead and she glanced cautiously up at it, hesitating.

She wasn't sure if she intentionally meant to go there or if her feet just carried her there on their own. Either way, she quietly slipped through the open doors and was greeted by faint snores, a few boys murmuring in their sleep as they shifted beneath their blankets. She wrapped hers tighter around her shoulders and sought out a certain bed, carefully trying not to bump into another or wake someone up.

She found it at last and she gazed down at the tousled blonde hair as the lanky boy slept peacefully on his stomach, arms curled around the flat pillow he rested his head on.

Eyeing the beds around her to make sure no one noticed she was there, she knelt slowly until she was nearly eye level with Newt. His mouth hung open slightly as he breathed deeply in his sleep and she felt bad for deciding to wake him. Part of her felt obligated to quickly leave before he realized she was at his bedside, but the other part of her – the much bigger part – was feeling selfish as for once she was certain she didn't want to be alone.

With that, she slipped a hand out from underneath her blanket and poked his bare shoulder gently.

"Newt," she whispered. She lightly rested her hand there and shook him. "Newt," she said again and his legs shifted a bit before his eyes cracked open.

He blinked a few times until her face came into view and she pulled her hand away. Newt squinted and rubbed his eyes with a low groan.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice husky and laced with sleep. He gazed at her again, eyes less glossy and much more alert after rubbing them as he took in her small form. "Are you alright?" he asked, propping himself up to rest on his elbow. "You look exhausted, love. Have you gotten any sleep?" she noticed his accent was much more prominent when he was half asleep.

She bit her lip. "Um, a little," she said softly. "I had a nightmare."

Newt nodded, eyes skimming her face. "Okay," he said after a moment. "That's alright," he fell back onto his bed and stretched a little, his shirt riding up to his stomach as he kicked away his blanket.

She hesitated. "There was one good thing that came from it I guess," she said. He gazed over at her questioningly as he rubbed a hand through his bedhead. The light of the moon cast a certain luminescence over his face, enunciating his jawline and making his pale skin glow. "I remember my name."

Newt's eyes widened a bit.

"Really?" he asked, sitting up.

She nodded and stood up, once again checking to make sure no one else was awake. He threw his long legs over the side of the bed. He looked as though he wanted to say something but he seemed to have thought better of it once he realized they had company.

"C'mon," he quietly said, placing a hand on the small of her back to steer her out of the Homestead.

They navigated their way through the sea of beds and sighed a bit once they crossed the threshold outside. Her mind was still rather foggy from lack of sleep but the fresh air untangled her thoughts a bit and relaxed her shoulders.

Newt's hand fell from her back and he stuffed his fists inside his pockets. "So?" he asked expectantly.

She exhaled slowly. "Amelia," she said, tasting the name on her tongue and finding some familiarity as her mouth formed around the word. "My name's Amelia."

"Amelia," Newt repeated. He glanced over at her with a half-smile. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Amelia. I'm glad you finally got your name back."

"Yeah," she said softly, gripping the blanket tighter as she watched her feet.

"Are you cold?" Newt asked, sounding concerned. She smiled a little despite herself and shook her head.

"No, it just makes me feel… safer," she said, for lack of a better word.

The two of them reached the edge of the woods and came across a familiar tree trunk. Without speaking, she took a seat against it and Newt sat beside her, his left side pressed flush against her right. It helped aid in her comfort and she didn't protest the closeness.

It hadn't escaped her notice the way Newt kept a respectable distance between them in order to not make her feel nervous. She appreciated the gesture but she was beginning to realize that she craved comfort through physical contact. She assumed that was a trait of hers from the past that she always had. It made her think back to her first night in the Glade when she wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything was going to be alright. Sometimes she still wanted that, which would return the heartache of missing her family. If she did indeed have one to miss.

She winced a little as she gazed at Newt's tired face out of the corner of her eye. He looked like he was zoning out, eyes watching the eastern wall without really seeing it.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, waiting until he looked at her before clarifying, "for waking you."

Newt shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

He ran a hand down his face before bringing his legs up to his chest and resting his arms on top of them. He held a long blade of grass between his hands and his thumb stroked along the contour of its surface. She was distracted as she watched him, feeling her eyelids grow heavier and heavier with each passing second.

"So you're not sleeping," Newt finally said. She blinked herself out of her trance.

"It's not exactly by choice," she defended herself quietly. Newt's eyes met hers knowingly. "It's just hard… I'm not used to this place. My mind doesn't want me to sleep. Every time I close my eyes I get scared."

"What are you scared of?" Newt asked, not unkindly.

Amelia shook her head.

"I don't know. I just don't feel safe," she watched the leaves stir and rustle in the wind. "I think about the Grievers. That's what I dreamt about tonight. Other times I just think about my past. Wonder what my life must have been like," she turned to Newt with a frown. "Is it bad that I don't even know myself? I don't know how I should feel. I don't even recognize the feelings I do have."

Newt nudged her shoulder with his in a comforting sort of way.

"It's not bad. It's just normal. We've all felt this way before. It doesn't seem like it will at first, but it does get easier. Eventually you'll start to feel comfortable in your own skin. I promise," his eyes scanned her face searchingly. He watched her eyelids drop and his forehead pinched when he saw her fight it. "You're tired," he stated.

Amelia's eyes watered. "I just wish I could sleep."

He pursed his lips before setting his jaw and pushing himself up and away from the trunk. She frowned at the loss of warmth and glanced up at him curiously.

He held out a hand. "Come on."

She took his hand and allowed him to pull her up before he led her by their joined hands to the canopy where her hammock laid empty.

"Get in," he said quietly, pulling her forward. She sighed tiredly before unwrapping herself from the blanket in order to climb into the hammock. Newt steadied it as she adjusted and shielded herself with the blanket. She settled underneath the scratchy material and looked up at him.

Newt knelt down on the ground with some effort until he was eye level with her. He pulled his knees up into his chest and wrapped an arm around them. He rested his free hand on the side of her hammock and held it out to her, palm up. When all he received was a blank stare from her, he shook his hand expectantly and she cautiously placed her hand in his.

"Just go to sleep," he told her, voice light as to not wake the others. "I'll be right here, I won't leave. Just get some rest, Amelia."

She frowned a bit, touched by the offer. "But what about you? Aren't you tired?"

He gave her a funny smile. "I'm not the one who hasn't gotten any sleep in three days. I'll be fine."

Amelia bit her lip. "I don't even know if I can sleep…"

Newt shrugged, not appearing too concerned. "All you have to do is try. If you don't fall asleep soon we can stay up and talk some more until you're ready to try again. I've got all night."

She felt unsure but she lowered herself until she was resting on her side, facing him. Newt seemed to understand the yearning she had for someone to be near her. It surprised her at first that she felt comfortable enough to let her guard down around him, but then she assumed her mind accepted that he wasn't a threat and that he could be trusted. He was nice to her and she appreciated that.

He squeezed her hand and intertwined their fingers to keep their hands fastened. She focused on the sound of his steady breathing and the rustling of the branches in the breeze. She felt his eyes on her as her conscience slowly gave way to sleep, his tired brown eyes being the last things she remembered seeing before her mind eased and she finally succumbed to darkness.

The following morning she awoke to the sun's steady rise above the maze's eastern wall, painting the sky in golden hues of pink and orange.

She smacked her lips together in contentment, eyes still sore and yearning for a couple more hours of sleep but her body felt more rested than it had in days. She sighed and winced at the stiffness in her right shoulder, turning slightly on her hammock and a head of unkempt blonde hair tickled her nose.

She pulled back and blinked in surprise at the sight before her until the memories from the night before came rushing back.

Newt was fast asleep, head resting precariously on the edge of her hammock. His fingers remained tangled in hers and she had the desperate urge to flex them and wipe the uncomfortable sweat from her palm but she refrained. His cheeks were flushed, lips parted as he snored lightly in his sleep.

She couldn't help but smile.


	7. builder training & bad feelings

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

* * *

 **week one—three years ago**

"Gally, this is Amelia."

She shook the boy's proffered hand with a hesitant smile. He had quite the boyish face, might have been even younger than her, with a defined brow line and freckles. He gave her a breezy smile and his handshake was firm.

"Amelia, huh?" Gally asked after dropping her hand. "Remember your name, I see. Last I heard you were still Greenie."

She exchanged a glance with Newt. Her cheeks filled with heat as she remembered the way she'd woken up two mornings ago—hand clasped firmly in Newt's as she watched him sleep longer than was probably deemed appropriate, unsure of whether she should wake him or not.

She felt embarrassed that she exposed such a strong vulnerability to him and mortified once she realized they were one of the last ones awake. Most of the boys had probably seen them, no doubt had to pass by her hammock to get to the kitchen. Luckily no one had made any comments when she and Newt had woken but she could feel the snide remarks threatening to burst free whenever she passed by someone throughout the day as if they could barely contain the teasing. She barely caught the hard looks Newt gave the boys as they passed by, daring them to poke fun at her, which should have relieved her but in the end only made her feel worse.

Luckily she'd spent the majority of the previous day working in the kitchen with Frypan which consisted mainly of scrubbing dirty dishes and cleaning fruits and vegetables alone and away from prying eyes. She was curious about how Fry cooked the food but he wouldn't even let her touch a spatula. A boy named Fig told her that he never let anyone else cook the stew.

"We have a theory that maybe he's poisoning us all slowly and we just haven't felt the effects yet," he'd whispered conspiratorially to her. When she gave him an alarmed look he just laughed and went back to dicing the carrots. She gave Fry suspicious looks the rest of the day much to Fig's amusement.

"Um, yeah," she finally answered, pulling herself back to the present. "I remembered the other night. In a dream."

He must have mistook her chagrin for something else because he shrugged and said, "Better late than never. We remember our names in all different kinds of ways. It took me a week to remember mine and I only did because I ran head first into a tree trunk."

When she only gave a tight smile in response, Newt placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Ready for another day of Keeper training?" he asked casually enough but she couldn't miss the underlying edge in his tone as if he was half expecting her to simultaneously drop to the ground and become emotionally catatonic.

"Sure," she said because she felt like any other response wouldn't have been appreciated.

"We saved the best for last," Gally boasted with a crooked grin. "Builders have the most fun. We can break things and get away with it."

"Only like sixty percent of the time," Newt corrected, smirking.

"Seventy-five percent," Gally compromised and Newt chuckled.

"Good luck," he said to Amelia who'd been watching the exchange with cautious amusement. He gave her a pointed look. "And try _not_ to break anything."

"No promises," Gally answered for her and Newt pursed his lips before raising an eyebrow at her in farewell.

She watched as he staggered off towards the gardens whilst biting her lip. Now that she knew the story behind his limp she couldn't help but feel a slight pull of regret in her stomach like her mind was trying to make her feel guilty for knowing and unable to do anything to help.

"Guess we should get started," Gally stated, startling her out of her thoughts and she quickly whipped her head in his direction to find him already staring at her searchingly. "Let's get you some sunscreen first. You're pale as a sheet. We haven't even been in the sun for five minutes and already your shoulders are turning pink."

He led her to one of the smaller huts she'd only glanced at in passing. It was standing near the Bloodhouse somewhat shielded from view.

"This is where we keep all our supplies," Gally informed her.

There were a few tools hanging along the walls, some that appeared freshly purchased from a hardware store (albeit a little rusty) and some that were clearly handmade with stones, bamboo and rope. He bent over and lifted the lid to one of the plastic containers resting on the ground beneath them. She peered over his shoulder and saw a few small first aid kits along with bottles of antiseptic and sunscreen. He handed her the lotion.

"Here, put some of this on so you don't barbeque yourself."

She grimaced but did as he asked.

He started off by explaining to her what all of the tools were called and what their purpose was. She was fairly certain she didn't live under a rock in her past life so she was able to recite them all back to him on the first try. Apparently it'd happened on more than one occasion where a kid's memories were wiped more severely than the others and their mind was like a blank slate. Gally wasn't taking his chances in assuming everyone's common sense after a few incidents with a wooden saw he refused to elaborate on.

"We're working on finishing the Homestead at the moment," Gally said as he stomped through the grass towards the disarrayed hut. Amelia was following quickly in tow with a stack of tools she was attempting to balance in her arms.

They circled around the building's perimeter and she had to blink as the hut suddenly cut off, exposing the inside as if it'd been suddenly severed in half. She'd never been inside the Homestead in the daylight and couldn't remember feeling a draft when she woke Newt the other night. But upon further inspection, she realized that a tarp had been draped over the exposed back half, something she wouldn't have noticed in the dark.

The faded green tarp was now folded upward and resting on the hut's roof, tied securely with a rope to keep it from falling. A few boys were scattered about the area, some tugging wooden pallets covered in large branches and bamboo from the woods and others climbing dingy ladders that wobbled dangerously every time they shifted.

"Just sit those there," he gestured vaguely to the spot she was standing in and she carefully placed the tools in the grass, wiping her hands absently on her pants. "Help me unload this," he said once she returned her attention to him. He tossed her a pair of gloves.

She proceeded to help him transfer the wooden logs and bamboo from the pallet to the Homestead where a growing pile was waiting for them near one of the ladders. Some were heavy enough that the two of them had to lift together at each end and others Amelia was able to carry in twos or threes. She seemed to surprise both Gally and herself that she had as much upper body strength as she did for how thin her arms were. Of course, she was only able to lift about half the weight Gally could but she seemed to deliver exceptionally on the execution of lifting. She knew to lift with her knees, not her arms. She knew not to force all the pressure on her back because if she did she would have strained a muscle. Gally seemed relatively impressed that he didn't have to teach what seemed to be common knowledge to her. She idly wondered how she knew all of it.

After they deposited all of the wood, Gally commanded the boy back into the woods to gather more bamboo before he motioned her towards him.

"We're working on putting up some support beams so the ceiling doesn't cave in. See this," he waved a hand over his shoulder for her to follow him and they walked into the Homestead. "All these beams are placed within a ten foot radius of each other to even the load of the ceiling. This is how we measure the distance…"

And that's how the rest of the morning went. 'Fun' wasn't a word she would have used to describe it but it wasn't necessarily awful either. She had to take more breaks than Gally did to regain her strength and she found that she drank more water than he did which inevitably meant she had to use the restroom twice as often. It annoyed him to no end but at the same time she did well enough when she wasn't sitting in the shade or scrambling off to the bathroom that he didn't complain as much as he obviously wanted to. That must've meant she at least made a decent first impression.

"Time for some grub," Gally rubbed his hands together a few hours later.

Amelia was walking side by side with him, sweating more than she cared to admit and hungrier than usual. For once she felt like she had an appetite and even though seeing the pork made her stomach churn, she greedily snatched up some extra vegetables when no one was looking before following obediently behind Gally as he made for a table. It was part of the routine for her to eat lunch with each section she was training with and today was no exception.

Gally took a seat towards the end of the table that left an available seat next to him which she accepted by placing her tray beside his. She swung her legs over the bench and tried not to be too obvious with stuffing her face because her stomach was growling almost painfully. Her arms felt a little sore from lifting and her hands were a bit shaky as she raised the cup of water to her lips but for the moment she didn't care.

She'd been introduced to the rest of the Builders throughout the morning and she recognized all the faces that joined them at the table, though she could only remember a few of their names. There was a short stubby boy with slight acne named Harris who only spoke when spoken to. Obviously Amelia never had a conversation with him but he stood out because of his unruly, wildly curly black hair. And the other boy she remembered was John who was a beanpole; tall and lanky but especially good at tying knots. At one point he showed her how to tie what he called a monkey's fist. When she asked how he knew how to tie a knot like that, he said he didn't know. It just came to him like muscle memory.

Gally cackled as he talked quietly with the boy next to him after Amelia finished her corn. They were messing around with a glass jar, mixing together a yellowish looking liquid that made her tonsils curl. Gally forced the edge of the glass towards the boy's nose and he yelped, shoving it away as he coughed at the smell. Gally doubled over in laughter and the boy promptly shoved him roughly in the shoulder, causing him to knock into Amelia as she was taking another sip of her water. In an uncoordinated turn of events, he rammed into the arm that was holding her cup and the water splashed up into her face.

She sputtered and choked, quickly sitting the cup down so she could wipe her face dry. Gally's mouth formed a perfect 'o' but he laughed again anyway, though it didn't necessarily sound like he was laughing at her expense. A cacophony of snickers echoed around the table and Gally and the boy next to him exchanged mischievous grins before Gally pushed the cup of nasty liquid towards her.

She managed to uphold some of her dignity as she glanced warily at the glass. "What's that?"

"Just a bunch of stuff we mixed together," Gally said suspiciously. There was a playful glint in his eye. "I dare you to drink it."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you five?"

"I don't really remember," he countered and she narrowed her eyes unappreciatively at the joke.

"I don't think there's anything in there that will kill you," the boy next to him supplied unhelpfully.

"You're crazy if you actually think I'm going to drink that," she told him, lip curling as she glanced down at the foggy yellow liquid.

"Think of it as an initiation of sorts," Gally grinned with a raised eyebrow. "You can't officially be a part of the gang until you drink it."

"What makes you think I want to be a part of 'the gang'?" she eyed him skeptically.

Gally smirked. "Well you don't actually get a choice but we like to pretend you have the option to join willingly anyway. Makes the Greenies feel better about themselves."

Amelia furrowed her brows for a moment until they eventually lifted to her hairline, realization flickering in her eyes. "Wait, are you saying—?"

"I mean, probably."

"But I'm only halfway done with the day," she said, unsure if she was flattered or not that he already wanted her to be a Builder. "Do you really get to choose me without asking everyone else first?"

Gally shrugged modestly as the rest of the boys leaned in, listening with knowing looks on their faces.

"You're good. I mean, one day really isn't enough to tell anyway and we've been wrong before but," he rolled his eyes and waved his wrist carelessly, "it's not like it really matters. So what if you're not great? You'll get better. If someone hasn't already claimed you then I will," he pushed the glass jar towards her with an expectant grin. "So what do ya say, Amy?"

She couldn't tell if she felt excited or not. On the one hand, she wasn't exactly sure she was the best fit for the job. She wasn't in good shape and didn't have the creativity for schematics. But on the other hand, she was immensely relieved that she hadn't been chosen for the Slicers or Baggers. If that were to have happened, she probably would have boycotted.

She opened her mouth to respond, probably with some disgusted comment regarding the liquid that permeated the air in front of her, but then her mind backtracked.

"Did you just call me Amy?"

"Well yeah," Gally shrugged again as if it weren't a big deal. "Amelia sounds too _formal_. If I had a grandma I'm pretty sure that would've been her name."

Blunt as ever, she noted. She let the nickname simmer for a moment. Off the top of her head she couldn't tell if her name had ever been shortened to that before. It didn't feel as familiar as Amelia did but at the same time it sort of sounded like it fit her. Short and simple. She could appreciate that.

Feeling an involuntary smile tug at the corner of her lips, she gazed gratefully at Gally who for his part seemed exasperated by the show of emotion and rolled his eyes. He pushed the jar towards her again until it was pushing against her half empty glass of water.

She gave him a somewhat amused glance. "I'm still not going to drink that."

Gally's face fell.

"Why not?" he pouted as if it'd been a good bargain.

"I don't appreciate being hazed," she told him as she took another drink of her water, this time to hide a second smile.

Something warm tingled in the pit of her stomach. Belonging. Besides Newt, Gally was one of the few boys who treated her like she was a normal human being. He didn't look at her like she was a piece of meat, and he didn't pity her or seem skeptical of her. He did seem to enjoy teasing her a bit but at least he was treating her like an equal. She could handle that.

"Don't think of it as hazing," Gally said. "Think of it as being the first to taste what could very well be a popular concoction here in the Glade."

"If it doesn't make everyone violently ill," she retorted and ate a few pieces of tomato.

"That's why we have a test subject," he grinned brazenly at her and she stared at him openmouthed, feeling mildly offended.

"No!" she squawked and Gally huffed, tossing his arms up in the air.

One by one the boys at the tables began rising from their seats and started filing back out into the Glade to continue working at their respective posts. Gally gave her an unimpressed look before he snippily scooped up the jar and shoved it into the boy's chest who had helped make it.

"Drink it," he demanded.

"What—no!"

"Don't be a girl," Gally snapped and Amy made a noise of disapproval in the back of her throat. He waved her off without even glancing her way.

"It was your idea, you drink it," the boy shoved it back towards him and Gally's jaw clenched.

"If you don't drink it I'm going to make you work the roof for a week," he threatened.

"You do that anyway!"

"Shirtless. With no sunscreen."

Amy rolled her eyes at the immaturity, refusing to admit she actually enjoyed hearing them bicker because it made her forget where she was and who put her there. She gazed down at her empty plate, stomach feeling sated as she smiled a bit to herself. It was progress. It was the first plate of food she finished without someone nearly force-feeding it to her. She was nursing a slight headache which, ironically, could have been because of all the food she ate.

"Hey princess, quit daydreaming," Gally's voice snapped her out of her reverie. She blinked and lifted her head, eyes meeting his as he hovered near the head of the table expectantly. "Back to work. You still have a lot to learn," he said, tapping his knuckles on the tabletop before he made his way out into the sun.

Amy slowly lifted herself from the table, returning her empty cup to the kitchen before tossing her plate away. As she shielded her eyes from the sun, she heard someone sputter and spit out the liquid they just drank off into the distance followed by, " _That's so fucking gross, Gally!_ " and a round of hysterical laughter.

She shook her head and headed towards the Homestead, fighting a smile the entire way.

* * *

"So a Builder, huh?" Newt asked over dinner later that evening.

Rather than eating with everyone else, the two of them sat against a familiar tree trunk with their plates resting in their laps for a bit more privacy.

"It's kind of weird, isn't it?" she asked with a hesitant look on her face.

It had been made official less than an hour ago. The Keepers of each section apparently held a council meeting at the end of every Greenie's first week to decide their placement. According to Newt, Gally announced before the discussion could even begin that he wanted her in his group. As a leader, Nick dutifully asked him to explain why and he'd apparently responded with, 'Well, for one, she doesn't argue when I tell her to do something which is better than, like, literally _everyone_ here.' She'd laughed outright when he told her and when she asked if Gally really said that, apparently rather than get angry at Gally's brutal honesty, Nick just laughed and said good-naturedly, 'She's all yours.'

"Weird how?" Newt replied through a mouthful of potatoes.

"I don't know," Amy pushed the fruit around on her plate. "I don't really look like the Builder type, do I?"

Newt lifted an amused eyebrow. "From what I can tell you're not someone that can easily be underestimated. So I'll go with yes, you probably do."

Amy just sighed and ran a tired hand through her hair. She was beginning to feel the ache in her joints.

Newt gave her a piercing stare. "How does it feel knowing you're one of us?"

"One of you?" she asked dubiously.

"You have a place now," he explained, sitting his plate aside so he could pull his knees up and rest his arms on them. "Does it make you feel less lost? Sometimes it helps the Greenies once they finish Keeper training."

She glanced down at her food in contemplation.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I'm still kind of waiting for the day where I wake up somewhere completely different, only to find out that all of this has been a dream. Or a nightmare, depending on the way you look at it."

"Well we both know that won't happen," Newt stated outright and she gave him a questioning look. "In order for you to wake up, you'd first have to be asleep," he gave her a pointed look and she licked her lips. He was referring to the night before where, once again, she got very little sleep. "Do I have to start asking the Creators to send up some sleeping pills?"

Despite her better judgment, the idea sounded tempting. "Would they listen?"

Newt considered her. "Doubt it."

Amy groaned a bit and ran her hands down her face, rubbing at her eyes. "I don't know what to do. It's not like there's an off switch I just flip and boom, I'm asleep."

"I know," said Newt calmly. "It's just, you've gotten maybe one good night's sleep and you've been here seven days. It's not healthy."

Amy glared at him. "You don't think I know that? What do you want me to do?" she extended her arms. "Please, if you have a suggestion, share it with the class. It's not like I enjoy not sleeping. I've had a headache ever since I got here, I get dizzy spells and I barely eat… you don't think I want all of that to go away?"

"I know," Newt said again, this time more forcefully. He then glanced down at her plate that was left relatively untouched. "You should eat some more," he urged quietly. She rolled her eyes at the change of subject but picked up her fork nonetheless. Newt snorted. "You've already spent too much time with Gally. I've never seen you roll your eyes so much. What a bad influence."

She quickly stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned.

Amy hummed as she forked a strawberry into her mouth. Her eyes wandered a bit as she chewed thoughtfully, contemplating Newts words and if they held any truth to them.

The rest of the afternoon with the Builders had gone by relatively smooth. Gally was able to get her up on a ladder to work as the go-between for Harris who lifted up the tools the boy on the roof requested. She hadn't done much in the way of making conversation but she listened as the boys made their own small talk. Every now and then one of them would ask her a question in relation to the topic and she gave one-worded or short-sentence responses but that was only because the questions didn't require very in-depth answers. It was all very casual and even a bit relaxing when she wasn't worried about having a heat stroke.

Her eyes eventually roamed over to the cage doors where Ray was being held for three more days.

At the thought of him she could feel the burn of his handprints on her skin digging into her ribcage and searing into her flesh. Her knees were discolored with clusters of green and yellow from falling and there were a few purple dots along her forearm from where he grabbed her. It made her nauseous to think that he'd marked her, leaving reminders on her skin of what he tried to do. She hadn't showered in the outhouses since. She still rinsed off in the river when the rest of the Glade was otherwise occupied and she had a feeling Nick knew but he never commented on it. She felt grateful because she didn't want to have to go to him herself to ask for permission because that would require her to acknowledge what happened and she wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

But she still had a countdown going inside her head for when Ray would be released. It made her uneasy to think about having to see him around. It made her even more uneasy to think about which section he was in. Considering his stature, she wouldn't be surprised if he was a Builder.

Newt seemed to notice that she had closed herself off again. Her lips were pursed as she finished eating, too consumed in her thoughts to pay attention to the way he eyed her as if he were trying to read her mind and see what had caused her intense shift in mood.

She placed the fork on the empty plate and sat it down in the grass on the side Newt wasn't occupying.

"I'm finished," she said quietly as if she were obligated to let him know. She knew he nodded without even glancing in his direction.

"Okay," he said back.

They sat there for a few more moments in thick silence before Amy excused herself and headed towards the canopy where her hammock laid. She remained there for the rest of the night and didn't talk to anyone else.

* * *

 **present day**

Ever woke up in the morning to a ball of dread twining in your stomach?

Like the ominous feeling was what had caused you to wake up in the first place? It set you on edge, made you feel jittery and uneasy just waiting for something to come barreling around the corner to scare you even though part of you already felt like it was coming.

That's how Amy woke up the following morning.

Throughout her years in the Glade she had plenty of time and experience to consider the possibility that maybe she just had a sixth sense. A sense of foreboding, if you will, that was a bit more sensitive than the average human's. It was the only explanation she could think of unless the memory wipe had given her super powers.

Because every time she had a feeling that something was going to go wrong, even if it was something so minor and miniscule that it didn't even make a difference, it still happened.

Newt was one of the few people who knew about her bad feelings. Because they were so close he usually believed her whenever she had one of those moments, but also because he'd made the mistake of not taking her seriously a long time ago and they paid the price for it. Amy wasn't so egotistical that she actually believed she'd been able to stop it, but it still weighed heavy on her conscience whenever the memory popped into her mind. Because even though she didn't know exactly what was going to happen, she still knew _something_ was going to happen.

Amy drug her feet through the grass as she went about her morning activities. She brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her hair, splashed water on her face, the works. Every few minutes she found herself tossing paranoid looks over her shoulder. It was like there was something electric in the air that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

She had breakfast with Newt and Frankie but didn't pay much attention to their conversation. As she chewed on her bacon, her eyes glided over the Gladers in sight as if expecting someone to be missing. She found Gally eating at a table with most of the other Builders and the Slicers, Thomas was sitting with Chuck and some of the gardeners, Minho had already disappeared beyond the maze walls with Alby. It seemed almost too normal and it set her nerves into overdrive because something just wasn't right.

Following behind Gally to the Bloodhouse where they continued to repair its roof, she tried shaking the feeling away. She couldn't let it consume her despite how much she wanted to let it. She needed to focus on her work so Gally wouldn't wring her neck and nick the sunscreen again because as of yet he hasn't spoken a word to her. As she expected, he was giving her the cold shoulder. She just wanted to slap him with the wood panel she had clutched in her hand and maybe re-jog his memory of the good old days when he used to actually enjoy being in her presence.

The morning went soundly and Amy tried ignoring how wrong that felt. She made a few trips to the water spigot for the boys to refill their canteens but she'd yet to refill her own in a while so she decided to take a break and do so.

She slid down from her perch on the ladder and made her way towards the center spigot. A few boys were just finishing up their own refills and she exchanged tight smiles with them as they passed by her.

As she held her canteen underneath the faucet, she glanced towards the gardens. Newt was picking berries on his own and her eyes scanned the field for Thomas, remembering that the newbie was scheduled to train with him today. Her stomach dropped a little when she couldn't find him but she was quickly distracted by her canteen overflowing and she had to pull it away and drink a bit so she could close the top.

Amy sat the canteen on the ledge so she could dunk her head under the spigot to cool herself off. She let the water flow into her palms and splashed some on her face to wash away the salty sweat that stuck to her skin. She kept her eyes closed for a minute or two, relishing in the breeze. It made the water feel cool and refreshing on her skin and she let the air dry it before she rubbed her eyes until she saw stars and reopened them.

With a sigh, she grabbed her canteen and made to turn around to head towards the Bloodhouse when an ear-piercing scream caused her to duck out of instinct and attempt to shield her ears.

Blood racing, she quickly jerked upright and twisted in the direction it came from, hearing a very distinct shout followed by another echoed shriek.

" _Help! He's gonna kill me!_ "

It was Thomas.

Eyes wide, she circled around the spigot and ran towards the gardens. She noticed Newt had tensed up at the sound, head turning every which way to try and discern where it was coming from. The echoes were a bit disorienting and he clenched his shovel tightly in his fists as Amy continued running. She almost reached Newt when a pair of rushed footsteps reached her ears and she skidded to a stop, eyes wide as saucers as she saw Thomas flailing and tripping over his own two feet as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

A figure was careening after him from behind and Amy's breath stuttered in her throat when she caught sight of their face.

It was Ben.

He looked deranged and pale as his hands grappled for Thomas' shirt, who was running just out of the boy's reach.

She knew something was wrong. She _knew_ it.

Her bad feelings were _always_ right.


	8. the box

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

 ***Warning: Slight gore.**

* * *

 **week two—three years ago**

"You're going to climb down the Box shaft?" Amy asked incredulously.

It was something she'd heard through the grapevine as she helped secure half of the back wall of the Homestead together and it'd set her on edge ever since. The minute she was allowed a break she stomped through the Glade in search of her Keeper.

"Yep," Gally said, popping the 'p' as he continued to weave the strands of bamboo together. Every so often he would pull it taut to make sure it was secure before weaving again. She watched with intrigue as the makeshift rope slowly started to come together. She had to admit she was impressed. She never would have even considered the possibility of using threads of bamboo to make rope.

The thought of scaling the walls of the Box shaft unsettled her though.

"Why not just ride down with the Box?" she asked.

"Because," Gally huffed when a particular strand of bamboo started giving him fits. "It won't move when there's someone in it."

She ran a hand through her hair, considering this. "Then why not just wait until it starts to go down and then jump on top of it?"

"Because," he said again, starting to sound annoyed. "It stops the second one of us gets on it. Don't you get it? Those shuckfaces have cameras everywhere," Gally gestured around them. "They're watching our every move. We have to do something outside the box," he paused before smirking. "Literally."

Amy rolled her eyes at his pun and chose not to dignify it with a response. "Then why would you climbing down the shaft be any different? Won't they know you're trying to do that too?"

Gally shrugged, gritting his teeth as the rope was getting harder to weave. His hands were red and cut up and he flexed his fingers slightly.

"That's just a risk we're going to have to take, Greenbean. Besides," he leaned over a bit to grab more strands of bamboo and pulled them to his side, interlacing them through the already woven threads to make the rope longer. "What are they gonna do? Send the Box back up and try to squash us?" he laughed outright at the possibility.

"I just have a bad feeling," she bit her lip.

Gally rolled his eyes, not unkindly. "Don't worry, princess. We're thinking everything through."

"When are you planning on doing this?"

"Tomorrow."

Her eyes widened.

" _Tomorrow?_ " she felt dizzy. Her stomach tangled in knots. The idea didn't sit well with her at all and the fact that they were going to do it so soon only made it worse. "I thought you were thinking it through?"

"We _have_ been," Gally said, finally pausing to make direct eye contact with her. The annoyance was still there but he seemed humored by her concern. "We've been working on this for the last shuckin' month. The Box went back down yesterday and won't be coming back up until next week. If there's ever a time they'll least expect it, it's now. Surely they have other things to worry about besides us."

Amy wasn't so sure.

Someone who made the effort to wipe their memories clean and then send them off to an isolated area created by them clearly had a lot of time on their hands. Not to mention all the times she'd felt eyes on her when there was no one around, like some unseen force was watching her every move. How she felt like she didn't have any privacy no matter where she was or how far away from everyone she got. She'd never thought much of it, chalking it up to her usual paranoia, but Gally had basically confirmed it.

Something in the back of her mind told her that the Creators had eyes and ears all over the place, probably had the entire Glade bugged.

There was no arguing with Gally though. He left no room for her to and the way he now had his back to her suggested the conversation was over even if she didn't want it to be. He hummed to himself, cheerful as ever as he continued stringing together his ridiculous bamboo rope without a care in the world.

Pursing her lips, she spun on her heels and went after the one boy who might actually listen to her.

"Newt," she called, jogging over to the gardens where the blonde was molding and shaping the clean soil with his track-hoe, arms glistening with sweat.

He paused upon hearing his name and looked up, eyes finding hers as he wiped his brow and leaned against the handle for support. He tilted his head in question when she approached him.

"Can I talk to you for a minute please?" she glanced over at the others nearby harvesting root vegetables and clearing weeds. "Alone?"

Breathily heavily from the heat and exertion, he nodded and lifted the track-hoe, following her a few meters away until they reached the edge of the woods.

"What's wrong?" he asked when she stopped and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Did you know that Gally was planning to climb down the Box shaft tomorrow?" she asked.

Newt wiped his forehead again. "Yeah? I mean, we've been planning it for weeks. Why?"

She inched a bit closer to him, as if afraid someone was going to hear her.

"Do you really think it's such a good idea? The Creators have ruined every opportunity you've had so far of going down the shaft. Why would this time be any different?"

Newt sighed and leaned against the handle again, relieving the pressure on his sore leg. "We've got to at least try, haven't we? We don't really have much of a choice. This is the best option we've got."

"I just have a bad feeling," she emphasized again. She exhaled slowly and shifted from one foot to the other. "I just feel like something's going to go wrong. It may just be that I'm paranoid but I don't know. I just thought I should tell you since Gally wouldn't listen to me."

Newt chuckled slightly.

"Gally doesn't really listen to anyone," he smiled at her crookedly. "I appreciate you telling me, love. But it's gonna be alright. We're gonna find a way out of here one way or another."

Amy wrinkled her nose and smiled without much emotion behind it. That was easier said than done.

* * *

As it turns out, it wasn't actually Gally that was going to be scaling the shaft. It was a boy named Eric who looked about a year younger than her, as she found out the following morning.

He was a Builder and she'd spoken to him amicably a few times whenever they were working on the same section of the Homestead together. He was a nice kid who liked good-natured jokes and always saw the bright side of a dark situation. He made her smile quite a few times and even elicited a laugh out of her once or twice.

She could somewhat understand why he agreed to be sent into the shaft. He was like a spider monkey, real good at climbing things. She'd seen him climb up trees and cut down branches with ease. It was like a walk in the park for him to scale the Homestead whenever he was working on the roof whereas she'd always needed a ladder.

But like Amy said before, he was a good kid. He was a good kid and she had a bad feeling.

She followed Gally and Newt around as they prepared the makeshift rope and strapped together the harness they made with the leftover bamboo and some carabiner clips that had come up a few times with their supplies. She continued to voice her concerns in their wake but all her words were falling on deaf ears as the two of them either shot down her worries or ignored them altogether.

"Do you know how deep the shaft is?"

"No."

"Don't you think that's something you _should_ know?" she retorted smartly. "It took the better part of an hour for me to reach the top when the Box was moving. Eric will only be going half as fast, if that. What if he gets tired?"

"The only way we're going to find out how deep the shaft is, is if someone climbs down there to find out. And he'll have plenty of snacks and water."

"What about when he reaches the Box? Where is he going to go from there?"

"He'll climb into the Box and get out that way."

"What if the Box won't open?"

"Shut up, Amy."

She knew she was making very valid points but no one seemed to care.

It got to the point where she'd pull anyone she could aside and tell them they were being idiotic for going along with a barely thought out plan. They looked at her like she was the stupid one. As if she knew nothing because she was a Greenie. Or a girl. Amy wanted to pull her hair out.

She was still coming to terms with the body she was in and the mind that she had. She was still learning stuff about herself every day, discovering things she liked and things she didn't. But if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that she knew when to trust her instincts. She didn't know how she knew. It was just, well, a _feeling_. It was an instinct to trust her instincts.

And _no one_ was listening to her.

When it came time for them to fit the harness on Eric, who was lugging around a heavy-looking backpack full of supplies, she decided to corner him beforehand as a last resort. If there was one person who could call off the whole thing, it was him.

"Eric," she called, zigzagging her way through the crowd of boys to get to him.

He stopped upon hearing his name and once she reached him, she grabbed him in the crook of his arm and tugged him off to the side. Much to her relief no one paid her any mind.

"Yeah?" he asked with a friendly smile. He didn't look worried at all. He seemed totally relaxed. Amy didn't like that.

"I don't think you should do this," she told him in a quick murmur. He furrowed his eyebrows. "What if the Creators find out what we're up to? What if something happens with the rope or the harness?"

"Amy," he laughed a little. "Just relax. I've already talked about all of this with the others. We have backup plans."

"Do you really?" she asked desperately. "Eric, you're going to be down there alone. It's going to be pitch black. There's only enough rope for you. No one else can come down with you at any point. We have no way of communicating with you once you're far enough down. The minute that happens, there's _no_ turning back."

His forehead creased a bit and Amy felt hopeful once she realized he was getting a little nervous. She felt bad for scaring him but she was running out of options, so she continued.

"You won't be able to change your mind. You don't know how long the shaft is. You could be climbing down for an hour, two hours, you don't know. You don't know if the Creators are going to be down there waiting for you to wipe your memory again or worse. There are so many unknowns that I don't see how _anyone_ could possibly think that this is a good idea."

Eric's lips were pursed as his eyes roamed her face searchingly. He seemed deep in thought and perspiration was lining his forehead, glistening in the late morning sun.

"The hell's going on?"

Newt approached the two of them, his hard gaze bouncing between Eric's nervous one and Amy's slightly guilty one. Newt narrowed his eyes at her, realization striking him, and he opened his mouth, clearly prepared for a reprimand when Eric shifted. He swallowed before his features slackened, seemingly coming to a decision. Obviously a bad one.

"I get that you're nervous," Eric said finally, voice wavering. Newt's brows furrowed at the anxiety riddling the boy's tone, who tried to steady it by clearing his throat. He steeled his expression and just like that the worry was gone. "But I volunteered to do this. I know what the risks are and I'm willing to take them if that means getting us out of here. Thank you for your concern but I'd appreciate it if you'd kindly get out of my way."

Amy stammered, mouth opening and closing as she faltered for a response. "You can't save us! You can't honestly expect it to be that easy!"

"Thanks for your concern," he replied stiffly before sidestepping Amy and continuing on his way. He still had a few worried creases in his forehead as he talked with Gally and Amy felt guilty for causing it. She hadn't managed to change his mind at all so her freaking him out had been for nothing. The only difference was he wasn't scared before, but he was now.

Amy made to run after him but a firm hand stopped her, shoving her back a bit.

"Stop," Newt said, voice tense. Amy shoved his arm away and attempted to go around him but he shoved her again, this time harder. She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat and Newt raised his eyebrows before snapping, "Amelia, _stop_."

She breathed quickly, giving him her best glare that pathetically seemed to have no effect.

"You're outta line," Newt said, frowning and looking annoyed. "You had no business interfering like that. What the hell did you think you were doing?" he squinted. "You think scaring him half to death is going to solve anything?"

Amy ran a shaky hand through her hair and licked her lips.

"Newt, you don't understand—"

"No, _you_ don't understand," he countered loudly. "You've been here two weeks. Okay? Two weeks. You're new, and I get that you're scared as all hell, but you don't have the right to mess with people like that. You got that? _You_ don't have the right," he poked her in the chest. "The only thing you're allowed to do is sit back and watch."

Amy opened her mouth to retort but he quickly shook his head, brown eyes dark.

"You don't get to have an opinion. Not about this. So _stop_. Just shut it and let us do our job."

He gave her one last heated look before stomping off, shaking his head as he went and muttering to himself beneath his breath. She watched him go, the dread in her stomach only multiplying and making her feel sick.

Amy shakily ran her fingers through her hair before wiping her hands down her face, slowly making her way back into the crowd.

Gally and Nick finished adjusting the harness for Eric and the three of them made their way to the Box shaft with everyone else following hastily behind.

Amy carefully made her way towards them, eyeing the doors warily as they were opened. She jumped a little when they slammed on the ground on either side of the empty shaft, the silence following it putting her on edge.

Against her better judgment, she made her way through the chattering boys as they circled around the opening.

She broke through the crowd and ended up alongside Alby as he cautiously watched Eric kneel down to swing his legs over the edge of the shaft. The boy sat there for a moment, idly glancing down into the dark abyss with his legs swinging to and fro.

For a split second, Amy didn't see a teenager. She saw a little kid, innocent and naïve as he dangled precariously over the chasm, oblivious to the danger below. The iron doors that lay open were like jaws, waiting for him to crawl inside so they could close and swallow him whole. In her mind she saw everyone race forward to try and pry the doors open as Eric's muffled screams echoed hauntingly beneath them.

She quickly shook the image from her head as Eric hoisted himself forward, leg extending down a bit to catch on the ledge just inside the shaft so he could gain his bearings. He adjusted the bag on his shoulders before twisting himself around as Nick, Gally, and a few of the Builders steadily lowered him into the shaft. Amy crossed her arms over her chest, feeling her heart beat quicker the further down he went.

Someone approached her from the right and she felt a familiar presence rest itself at her side. Newt eyed the process carefully much like Alby on her left and she found herself watching him rather than Eric, though neither of them said a word. She felt nauseous knowing that there was nothing but dark, open space beneath him. She didn't know how he wasn't panicking over the nothingness that waited ominously at his feet.

"Easy does it," Nick called down to him. "You alright, man?"

The only part of Eric left on the surface was his hands that gripped the edges. After a moment's hesitation he nodded, giving everyone a thumb's up. He maneuvered around a bit to test the stability of the rope which gave no signs of weakness.

"Alright, make sure to scale the wall closely," Nick advised. "Remember the pipes that run along the west side."

Eric looked somewhere beneath him. He moved an inch to the left before nodding and looking back up. "Got it."

"If you need us to stop or if something happens and you want us to pull you back up, just tug three times on the rope. We'll bring you back as fast as we can," Eric nodded in response, looking as though words were failing him at the moment. Nick advised, "Turn your flashlight on."

The light strapped to Eric's forehead flickered to life.

"You know the plan," Nick continued, gripping the rope in his hands so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Once you reach the bottom, open the doors to get inside the Box. There should be a door that opens outward on the north side. With any luck it won't be locked but if it is, use the wrench to pry it open," it didn't escape Amy's notice that he was bringing the only wrench they had left with him at their disposal. "Make sure you turn your light off about thirty feet from the cage. You want to attract as little attention as possible."

"Will do, boss," Eric said, giving the OK sign with his fingers.

"Be safe," said Nick and everyone murmured their agreements, wishing him good luck. Amy shifted a little, her shoulder brushing up against Newt's.

With one last unsteady smile, Eric gradually began to lower himself into the shaft. Nick and Gally were careful when feeding the rope, not wanting to go too fast for Eric and have him lose his footing.

When he finally let go of the edge, Amy swallowed thickly. A few seconds later and his head disappeared into the darkness as well.

She kept an eye on the rope for any signs of a struggle. She waited for it to start thrashing about, to hear that a Griever was waiting for him inside a gully in the shaft's walls. She waited to hear a disembodied robotic voice over a loudspeaker announce that their attempts to escape were futile. That they would never find their way out of the Glade and that they were stuck there forever. She waited for someone around her to regain their common sense and say that this was a bad idea. Everyone would laugh it off and pull Eric out before he got too low and call it a day. It would fade into a distant memory and Eric would always be safe and sound where Amy could see him.

What really ended up happening though was quite different, and it was something that Amy would never be able to forget.

Eric made it down a few feet with no qualms. Nick or Alby would check in every few seconds or so to make sure he was alright and they'd always be met with encouraging hums or offhanded replies. It was going fairly smooth.

Until Amy heard it.

It was a very swift, very faint sound. If it hadn't been so quiet amongst the group she probably wouldn't have heard it at all.

There was a distinct _whoosh_ of something disturbing the air and it echoed slightly in the shaft before a soft cling, like a metallic blade skimming against the edge of a concrete wall, sounded.

Amy only had about a second to frown at the odd noise before the unmistakable squelch of something being sliced tore through the air 0and everyone ran forward to the edge at the sound of a choked gasp.

For a single moment, everything looked normal. She saw the top of Eric's head and his hands were curled around the rope as he held on. But he was still, abnormally still, and Amy felt that uncomfortable tugging in the pit of her stomach before his body lurched and tipped to the side. She felt a scream build in her throat and she didn't hold back as the shrill sound of her horror pierced the air.

Eric's upper body tipped over the harness and she was met with the grotesque sight of glistening pink entrails spilling into the harness and hanging off its edges, dripping with a dark, sticky red substance that stained the rope.

Amy's hands flew up to her mouth, eyes wide as she froze. She felt an icy pull at her spine and a dull buzz rattled somewhere inside her head. Her cheeks felt wet and cold and her vision doubled, tripled, as she forced herself to look away. Figures scrambled about around her – fuzzy, distorted shapes that knocked into her and threw her off balance.

Her lips tingled and her stomach churned, bile threatening to shoot up in her throat but instead another strangled scream burst through her mouth. The macabre sound rang through her ears like it was being played on repeat, over and over again; the metallic clanging and the sickening squish of a body being severed in half.

Amy coughed violently as wet sobs wracked her chest. She cried, clutching her hands to her mouth still, afraid that if she pulled away she'd throw up. Her muscles felt tight and locked up and she could barely move. _Whoosh, cling, squish, whoosh, cling, squish…_

She sobbed, tears streaming down her face as her knees collided roughly with the itchy grass beneath her. There was a numb, uncomfortable ache in her kneecaps that her brain couldn't seem to focus on. Her nerve endings were frazzled and her body didn't know what to feel. She couldn't tell if she felt too much to comprehend it all or if she didn't feel anything at all. She didn't know what was happening. She didn't know what to do. She didn't _know_.

She coughed again, unable to catch her breath as she gasped. She felt a hand grip her shoulder tightly and she jumped, feeling her heart hammering in her chest as if it were trying to burst through her ribcage. She couldn't breathe. She tried sucking in a deep breath but her lungs contracted in an awkward way and she choked and coughed wetly again. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't _breathe_.

 _Whoosh, cling, squish, whoosh, cling, squish…_

"Amy," a voice called faintly.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and she could feel the pulsing in her eardrums.

"Amy…" she heard again. Her wide eyes were able to focus in on someone standing in front of her, their face close. She was able to distinguish blonde hair. "Hey, I need you to breathe for me. Breathe in and out, nice and deep, or you're going to pass out," they instructed in a strained voice.

She felt a hand on her chest, pushing against her sternum as if to help pump the oxygen more freely through her lungs. She gasped, taking in as much as she could before her chest burned. Her sight blurred again from the tears.

"You need to calm down, love. Just calm down," two hands placed themselves on either side of her head, holding her steady. Her eyes zeroed in on Newt's face, his eyes bloodshot and cheeks ashen and grey. His lips were a ghostly shade of white and he almost looked sick. "Breathe," he murmured again.

Her fingers tightened on her mouth as her breath finally returned to her. She cried silently and Newt's fingers tangled in her hair.

"He's dead," she muttered. "He's dead, he's dead, he's dead," her voice was edging on hysteric and Newt tried to soothe her, the pad of his thumbs caressing her temples.

He shushed her, looking about two seconds away from tumbling over the edge himself.

She vaguely heard him talking to someone standing above them. There was still a bit of commotion around her but Amy didn't have the capacity to try and listen. Her body felt like it was on autopilot, like she was looking through someone else's eyes. Newt continued to stroke the side of her face and she watched his lips move as he spoke. He then turned back to her and his fingertips squeezed the side of her head lightly, getting her to focus on him again.

"C'mon Amy, let's go," he stood slowly and pulled a hand back to pat her on the head before carefully prying her hand away from her mouth to hold it in his as he helped her to her feet.

She let him lead her by the hand as they weaved through a few of the boys. All of them were crying and white as a sheet.

Newt guided her into the Homestead. It was empty for the time being and she blindly followed him to his tiny bed where he stopped and brought an arm behind her back to lead her in front of him. He nudged her into a sitting position and she sat with her hands resting in her lap. Her face felt itchy from all the dried tears and sweat. She sniffed a little as Newt ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily before he glanced down at her. He looked like he was barely holding it together himself but he kneeled down in front of her regardless, holding himself up by resting his arms on either side of her thighs.

His eyes bore into hers and neither one of them spoke. It seemed they didn't quite know what to say. Amy could read the distress on his face and his skin was still ashen and void of any color.

She felt the guilt welling up in her stomach, causing it to churn again. She closed her eyes, willing the horrible images out of her head. She swallowed.

"I tried talking him out of it," she said quietly, voice hoarse and wavering. Newt watched her carefully, gripping the material of his blanket with white knuckles. "I tried to scare him, just like you said, tried to get him to call the whole thing off. But it didn't work. Just made him angry. If I'd tried just a little harder to—" her voice caught in her throat and she swallowed again, feeling her eyes burn as warning of a fresh wave of tears.

It was then that she realized she would never see him again. He was gone. Just like that.

It was such a hard concept to grasp – the idea of having someone in your life, even if they were just a side character in the plot of your own story, and then suddenly they weren't part of it anymore. Just like that.

He'd never laugh or sleep or climb anything ever again. He'd never see his family, never get out of the Glade and see the world. Get his memories back. She wondered what would happen to his spirit or his soul or whatever gets left behind. She wondered if that part of him would always be trapped there, never able to leave.

She brought a hand up to her mouth as a fresh wave of tears fell down her cheeks.

Amy shook her head. Her face twisted in anger.

"Why didn't you listen to me?" she hissed quietly, pulling her hand away. Newt seemed surprised at the sudden shift and he blinked stupidly which made her angrier. "I told you guys from the start that this was a bad idea. I _told_ you _not_ to go through with it but you _ignored_ me and did it anyway!" she shouted, rising from the bed. Newt stood with her and she watched the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench. "The Creators aren't going to make it that easy for us! This is _their_ game we're playing. _They_ make the rules. The only time we're going to be able to leave this place is when they _let_ us!"

They were nearly chest to chest and Amy breathed heavily through her nose.

"It's time for you to face the facts that unless the Creators say otherwise, we are _never_ getting out of here."

Newt's lip curled in disgust.

"You don't _know_ that," he stepped back and pointed an accusing finger at her. "You don't know _anything._ You've been here two weeks. _Two_ weeks. You don't know what it feels like to be here a month, or _five_ months. The only thing we have left is hope. Hope that we'll be able to get out of here and live normal lives," he waved his arms wildly, gesturing around them. "We don't belong here! The only thing keeping us going is finding a way out of this place. Just wait a couple months and you'll start to feel the same way. I've been here longer than you, Amy… I think I would know."

"Yeah and maybe that's clouding your judgment!" she snapped. "I want to be here just as much as you do, believe me, but you need to see the bigger picture! You're so desperate to find a way out that you're being reckless! You're putting everyone's lives at risk because you can't take a minute to step back and think things through!"

Newt's eyes narrowed and Amy felt her lower lip tremble as she lowered her voice.

"Eric died today, Newt," she croaked. He bowed his head, pursing his lips. He gazed down, staring at the hem of her shirt without really seeing it. Amy swallowed thickly. "He died today in the most… _horrible_ way and for what? If anything, this proves how cruel the Creators really are. They're monsters who will stop at nothing to keep us in here. They have nothing to lose because we don't mean anything to them. We have to be careful. We have to look out for each other because no one else will. Isn't that what you taught me?"

Newt's cheeks were wet and flushed. His posture was stiff, shoulders squared.

"The way his body was just…" he squinted his eyes, face dark. He took another step back and tilted his head up, sighing deeply as his eyes watched the canopy above them. "Fucking hell," he muttered.

"I know," she said quietly, wringing her fingers together.

Her hands were still shaky from the adrenaline and her heart was having a hard time returning to its normal beat. She gathered that she was probably hungry, maybe a little dehydrated, after having not eaten since the day before. But she just couldn't feel the hunger. There wasn't much she could feel other than the cool air that swept through the Homestead.

Amy grimaced as her thoughts ventured to dark places.

"What do you think they're going to do with him?" she asked in a small voice. She glanced carefully up at Newt through her eyelashes. Newt leveled his head and his eyes met hers. "With his body?" she clarified softly.

"I don't know," he said lowly. "Sick bastards."

Amy couldn't disagree.

"I'm scared," she admitted after a moment of silence. She felt Newt's eyes on her again but she couldn't bring herself to meet them. "I'm scared of what they're capable of… why they want us here."

"Yeah, me too."

Neither one of them spoke again after that.

There was an air of understanding that settled between them as they relived Eric's death over and over again inside their own heads. They gathered comfort from the other's presence and Amy eventually returned to Newt's bed, feeling emotionally drained and hardly able to hold herself up.

They remained there, her on his cot and him standing, until Newt eventually excused himself to check on everyone else and Amy collapsed onto his bed in an exhausted heap, unable to keep her tears at bay.

She knew she had a bad feeling.


	9. changings & accusations

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

* * *

 **present day**

Ben's vicious snarls echoed hauntingly in Amy's mind as Thomas screamed.

She felt frozen, rooted to the ground as she watched the events unfold. It was like a car crash she couldn't pull her eyes away from. But when Ben managed to grab a hold of Thomas' shirt, forcing him to the ground and causing everyone to shout in a panic as the two tumbled into the grass, she quickly blinked herself out of her trance.

Her feet carried her as quickly as they could to the scene. Newt had begun running a few seconds before she did, shovel clasped tightly in his hands, and it was like everything was in slow motion as he approached the wrestling pair. Ben had flipped Thomas around, clawing at his face and hissing down at him as if he were a snake and Thomas was his prey. Thomas' voice sounded raw as he yelled again, flailing his arms as he tried shoving the boy off of him. But regardless of how much he fought, he couldn't seem to match Ben's strength. The adrenaline had obviously hit him like a freight train and for the moment he was unstoppable.

"Hey!" Newt yelled to get Ben's attention.

The second Ben lifted his head his cheek was met with the firm iron of the shovel's blade and with a painfully metallic _clang_ he fell to the ground, releasing Thomas from his chokehold.

Thomas sputtered and coughed as oxygen was forced back into his lungs. He jerked himself away from the boy's writhing form and allowed two of the boys to help him to his feet where he proceeded to jump out of the way and attempt to regain his bearings. Newt and Fry bounced into action and quickly immobilized Ben's arms so he couldn't thrash about and hurt anyone else. Amy made a point to stay out of everyone's way but she contributed to the circle that had surrounded them as she eyed Ben warily.

She nervously began biting her thumb nail as Gally's quick strides led him to the commotion.

"I thought someone was supposed to be watching him?" Newt demanded angrily, quickly glaring at Fry before he pulled his gaze up to Gally who was watching Ben carefully with pursed lips.

"The hell's wrong with him?" one of the Gladers asked.

"He was stung, didn't you hear Alby this morning?" another chided.

"Yeah but I thought he got the serum. Shouldn't he be better now?"

Amy couldn't deny the truth in their words. She knew the serum changed you as a person, made you remember things and rendered the memory wipe useless, but she'd never seen it affect someone quite like it had Ben. He seemed genuinely afraid of the threat Thomas apparently posed and almost thirsty for his blood. It hadn't just made him cold like Gally. It made him murderous.

Newt huffed impatiently. "Can you lot stop gawking at him and give us some bloody room?"

His eyes scanned the crowd until his gaze met hers.

"Amy, can you maybe go find Clint or Jeff, _wherever_ the hell they are?"

She gave Ben a tense look but nodded at Newt's command and slipped through the crowd to search for them as asked.

She found them congregated near the animal pens with Winston and a younger kid named Darwin who was kneeling down by the fence as they glanced at one of the pigs. When they noticed how out of breath she was, they perked up and she quickly gestured for them to follow her back. She didn't give them an explanation nor time to ask questions, just legged it across the Glade and they had no choice but to wordlessly keep stride with her.

When she returned with the boys in tow, the crowd had dispersed a bit and most of the boys had retired to watching from afar while whispering closely with whoever was nearest. Thomas looked less shaken up now that he had time to recover and he was standing alongside Gally who seemed displeased that he had to make conversation with him.

"What exactly happened?" Amy heard Gally ask once she was within range.

Clint and Jeff hurriedly rushed to Fry and Newt's aid, giving Ben a once over with their eyes before Newt began to fill them in. Amy ran a hand through her hair as she watched Ben's chest heave as his eyes darted from face to face as if he couldn't remember how he'd gotten on the ground or why his friends were holding him down.

"I already told you," Thomas said tiredly. "I was in the woods getting more fertilizer and he showed up out of nowhere. He told me 'it' was my fault and then he attacked me."

Gally's arms were crossed. "What did he say was your fault?"

Thomas shrugged, brows scrunched in irritation. "He _didn't_ , he just said 'it' was my fault and then he proceeded to try and rip my throat out! I've never even met the guy before."

"It was just the sting," Amy interjected, shaking her head wearily. When both Thomas and Gally turned to face her, she tried giving the boy a reassuring smile that only came out as a grimace. "It's what the serum does when it cures you. He isn't thinking clearly."

"Actually, I'd say he's thinking more clearly now than he was before," Gally countered with a challenging tilt of his head.

Amy furrowed her eyebrows at him and he gave her a look that she assumed she was supposed to understand before his eyes fell onto Ben again whose skin was slicked with sweat. Thomas didn't seem to grasp the backhanded comment and if he did he chose not to respond.

"Let's just take him back to Med-Jack," said Newt with a frustrated sigh. "Alby can decide what to do with him when he gets back from the maze later."

The five of them hefted Ben from the ground and steadied him when he stumbled. He was mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, eyes glazed over and faraway as he let them lead him away. Thomas jolted out of their path as they passed by, lending Ben a cautious look as he watched them retreat. As they passed by Amy, Newt turned his head towards her and whispered, "Stay with Thomas," before they continued on across the field, walking slowly to compensate for Ben's sudden lack of coordination.

Amy licked her lips, feeling Thomas' presence at her side as he stepped forward to stand beside her. The two of them waited until the figures disappeared into the Med-Jack tent before exhaling simultaneously and exchanging tentative glances.

Thomas was obviously a little rattled but for the most part he was keeping to himself. She could almost hear the gears grinding inside his head as he watched the empty spot Ben had tackled him in.

"Are you alright?" she felt encouraged enough to ask after a few terse minutes of silence. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Thomas said and there was a pause before he corrected himself. "No, he didn't hurt me. I'm fine I guess," he gave her a tight smile before biting the inside of his lip and resting his hands on his hips.

She nodded to herself, unsure of what she was supposed to do with him now that they were alone. The rest of the Glade was eerily quiet as its inhabitants returned to work and it made her feel uncomfortable, the coils in her stomach tightening unpleasantly. Amy assumed Newt asked her to stay with Thomas to keep him company and she wasn't going to complain but she also knew that Gally would have her head if he knew she'd abandoned her post at the Bloodhouse to comfort the object of his annoyance.

She glanced towards the gardens, watching as the Track-Hoes harvested crops and picked fruits. Chuck was among them and every few seconds or so his eyes would find their way over to where the two of them were standing, watching Thomas closely with an endearing sort of concern only a kid his age could muster.

"I don't suppose you want to finish what you started over there, do you?" she asked, breaking Thomas' concentration and pulling his gaze towards her questioningly. When he saw that she was referring to his first day of Keeper training at the gardens, his shoulders sunk a bit and he didn't have to answer for her to know what he was already thinking. "Yeah, figured as much," she bit her lip and glanced at her teammates that were continuing to work on the Bloodhouse. She feared Gally's wrath more than Newt's but she figured it wouldn't hurt to kill two birds with one stone. "Just come with me. Hammering nails into the side of a building will get your mind off of things."

The rest of the Builders didn't protest when they saw that Amy brought a guest but they didn't bother to help play teacher either as she attempted to explain to him what parts of the building they were trying to fix. Everyone was still distracted by the incident and even though they all seemed to be working, it was clear that their minds were elsewhere as they only managed to work at half speed. It was odd to not hear their sniggers or snide remarks to one another as they shifted planks and exchanged tools. For once it was quiet which was odd considering the boys were almost constantly butting heads and making jokes.

By the time the sun was beginning to set below the western wall and Minho and Alby had returned from the maze, the Glade was aflutter with activity.

The skirmish with Ben and Thomas was still the hottest topic amongst the boys and since Amy had asked Thomas to stick close by for the remainder of the day, she could feel the penetrating stares of the boys as their eyes followed Thomas' every move. Most were guessing that he'd done something to Ben to warrant a fight, and others had heard Gally's mistrust regarding Thomas and were weighing the truth to his assumption that Thomas was the Glade's supposed downfall.

As her and Thomas rested near a bonfire that evening, she couldn't help but wonder what was being discussed inside the Med-Jack tent where both Alby and Minho had run off to after hearing the news. She wanted to march inside the tent and invite herself into the meeting, listen to what their options were and maybe contribute her own two cents, but she swallowed the desire down once reminding herself that she wasn't a Keeper and she had no authority to meddle in manners that didn't concern her.

It annoyed her but those were the rules and she wasn't one to go about breaking them just because she was curious and impatient. Despite how much she really wanted to.

Luckily she found that she didn't have to wait much longer. After everyone finished eating their dinner and returned to their usual nightly routines, Newt and the other Keepers exited the tent with obvious exhaustion. Like the night before, Amy tensed up and nearly stood as she watched them approach the bonfire talking quietly amongst themselves. It looked like the day had worn them out and they seemed defeated as they rejoined the festivities.

Newt and Minho stood off to the side, standing close to one another as they spoke in hushed tones with their heads bent. Amy watched them over the roaring fire, the heat distorting the air and warping their faces. She heard Chuck approach Thomas and start making small talk. She couldn't have been sure if Chuck greeted her or not because Newt's head turned to face the fire in that exact moment and once she caught his eye he beckoned her over with a tilt of his head.

She was up and circling around the fire in the blink of an eye after tossing a comment to Thomas that she'd be right back.

"What's going on?" she asked the second she reached them.

Minho avoided eye contact and swallowed as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Newt looked like he tasted something sour.

"Ben's really screwed up," Newt said. There was a hint of regret in his voice and Amy felt a surge of dread wash over her. "He won't let it go that Thomas is dangerous, even after Alby told him he broke the rules and hurt someone. His common sense is all turned around and we can't figure out why but there's nothing we can do to stop it. He said it himself that he wants Thomas dead," Newt's tone was heavy and she could feel the weight of his words slam into her chest and render her breathless.

"That's…" she shook her head. "That's not Ben, I mean… he'd never hurt anyone. It's Ben," her eyes danced between Minho and Newt. "It's _Ben_ ," she stressed, meeting Newt's eyes again.

He watched her for a moment before forcefully breaking eye contact and his brows tightened.

"There was a vote on banishment," said Newt suddenly and Amy recoiled as if she'd been slapped. "Gally said no but everyone else agreed that it'd be the best option for everyone. For their safety."

"Newt… no, that's not—you can't—" her voice wavered and she closed her mouth, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Alby said we can't play favorites," Newt had the good nature of sounding apologetic. He continued softly, "We can't give someone an out just because we've known them for years. He's dangerous. The serum changed him."

"Maybe the serum didn't work," Amy tried desperately. "Maybe he's still going through the Changing, maybe we need to give him another dose—"

"It worked," Minho interrupted stiffly.

Amy's eyes flickered to him tearfully. His eyes were red and the muscles in his jaw were tight. He kept his gaze away, watching the grass as it rocked in the breeze, and Amy found it was better that way. She didn't know what she would do if she could see the emotional turmoil raging on his eyes.

She sniffed and Newt's throat worked as he swallowed thickly.

"He was my friend too, Amy," he said roughly, quietly. His voice wavered and he sounded dangerously close to losing his composure. He was fighting the sorrow, holding it at bay. Even to her he had to maintain his self-control and not give in to the grief because he was still second-in-command. "But we have to do what's best for the Glade."

Amy covered her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes tightly to push out the tears that had welled up in her eyes. She felt them trail down her cheeks as she blinked, vision blurred and forcing Newt in and out of focus.

"Where is he now?" she asked in an octave higher than her usual tone, straining against the emotion.

"Alby's locking him up. It's the only way to guarantee he won't hurt anyone else. We can't risk leaving him alone with anyone," Newt told her. Minho remained stoic and still but it didn't escape Amy's notice that every time Ben was mentioned a pained wince would tug at his brows.

She wiped her eyes. "Can I see him?"

"No," Newt said instantly. When she appeared taken aback he shook his head for emphasis. "It's too dangerous. I don't want you near him."

"But he'll be in the cage," she protested. "How can he hurt me from inside it?"

"He has his ways," Newt commented shortly. "It's not Ben anymore, Amy. He's been gone ever since he got stung."

"I don't believe that," she said. "You don't believe that. He's still in there somewhere. You saw him when he was on the ground. He looked like he didn't even know what happened. How can you be sure this isn't the Changing still affecting him?"

"Because the wound is already healed," said Newt vehemently. "The serum worked. He's different now."

Amy ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at her scalp as she stepped back.

"Newt," she said quietly, shaking her head. She felt tears burn her eyes again and when Newt noticed he averted his gaze. His brown eyes were gleaming wetly in the light of the fire. "Even if there's just a small chance that a part of him is left, just a tiny little sliver, then it's still Ben. He's our friend. Our _family_. If tonight's really—" her voice caught in her throat and she had to swallow down the lump that formed there. "If tonight's really his last night, do you really think he should be spending it alone?"

Newt's lips twitched into a frown. "Alby's gonna stay with him for a while. Keep him company. He won't be alone."

"And I can't even say goodbye?" she sounded broken and Newt couldn't even look at her.

"No," he said quietly. "It's better this way."

Amy's head turned towards Minho without thinking and she voiced his name hesitantly. Minho shook his head once and rolled his shoulders like he was forcing down a tick.

"I'm gonna go get something to eat," he announced stiffly before he stepped away and headed in the opposite direction of the kitchens.

Amy cradled her head in her hands, letting the tears flow freely as Newt watched Minho go, lips pursed in a thin line and eyes full of regret.

* * *

 **week two—three years ago**

Eric's death had cast a shadow upon the Glade.

The atmosphere was thick and somber and as fitting as a cloudy sky would be, the sun shone brighter than ever almost threateningly as if in warning from the Creators that this was the price they paid for trying to escape.

They never had a body to bury but a small tombstone was erected in his memory and the Gladers all paid their respects in their own time. The boys closest to Eric had a hard time dealing with the loss, curling up at night in tears and losing the energy to work. Nick gave them some time to grieve and made up for their absence on his own, working mutely on the Homestead in a flurry of self-loathing.

It was clear Nick blamed himself for Eric's death. He was their leader and he made it his job to accept responsibility for situations that went wrong. Amy watched him descend into guilt from the sidelines, unknowing of what to say and wary of saying anything at all in fear of upsetting him more. His jaw was clenched, shoulders raised and tense, eyes hard and cold… he was like a rubber band that was being stretched too far. She was just waiting for the inevitable snap.

The other Gladers were steering clear of his path as well. The anger was emanating off of him in waves like a magnetic field that forcefully pushed everyone out of his way. She was worried about him but she didn't know what to do to fix it. She didn't even know if there was a way he could be fixed. She'd never had the death of someone on her conscience but it must've been a heavy burden. It reflected in the purple bags under his eyes and the paleness of his skin. Nick didn't even look like himself.

Amy was coping with it in the only way she knew best: lack of sleep. She cried until her eyes ran dry the first day and instead of getting an hour of sleep, she was back to getting none at all. In her nightmares she could still hear the _whoosh, cling, squish_ and sometimes during the day when the breeze would blow and whistle in her ears, she could hear it on the air too. She tried keeping herself awake at night, went as far as to make laps around the Glade while the rest of the boys slept. The only downside was when she was done, she felt more tired and the temptation of falling asleep—just for a second—was even greater.

But she fought it. She had to. Because every time she closed her eyes, she saw Eric's body being split in half again and she had to muffle her shrieks into her pillow.

Amy was also a bit worried about her newly attained Keeper. Whereas everyone else was down and gloomy, he wasn't acting any different from his usual chipper, slightly sarcastic self. It had to have been healthier to cry and get mad and throw a fit rather than have no reaction at all. Right?

"He's getting worse," said Eddy that afternoon, breaking Amy out of her trance. He was Gally's right hand man, or more appropriately his partner in crime. He was the one who was forced to drink Gally's nasty tonic a few days ago. Amy felt somewhat proud that she was beginning to remember names.

Gally paused and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he glanced at Nick who was sawing a plank of wood with a bit more force than necessary. He was panting, arm shaking as he severed the last few inches of wood before pausing to lean against the table, hands gripping the sides tightly.

"Well what do you expect?" Gally retorted lightly. "Should he just forget it ever happened?"

 _That's pretty much what you've done,_ Amy thought tersely, watching his face for any signs of immediate distress. When all she got was a raised eyebrow for staring, she felt her cheeks flush and she went back to untying the tarp from the Homestead's roof.

"I feel like we should do something," Eddy pressed.

Gally shook his head and muttered, "There's nothing you can do."

"Nothing I can think of off the top of my head," Eddy corrected, more to himself than anyone else as he peered over at their leader with a look of remorse. He was such a people pleaser and it made Amy's heart swell. He was a good kid.

Gally didn't seem to agree at the moment though.

"No, there is _nothing_ you can do," he repeated heatedly. He nodded towards Nick. "This isn't the first kid that's died on his watch and it's not gonna be the last. He's gonna feel like shit for the next week or two and then he's gonna get over it and move on until it happens again. That's just the way it goes," he snapped, his boyish face twisted into a glare. "There's _nothing_ you can do for him."

Eddy raised his hands in surrender, backing away to collect more nails with pursed lips.

Amy's brows were furrowed as his words swam around inside her head. Eric wasn't the first to die. She shouldn't have been surprised. Nick told her that a lot of kids went crazy and hurt themselves when they first arrived in the Glade. Some sort of coping mechanism that all of them seemed to possess; a track she might have been heading down if Newt hadn't quickly derailed it. Nick also hinted that a few of them got stung, or maybe even killed, inside the maze. It was an upsetting thought but not what bothered her. Gally said he wouldn't be the last. He sounded so sure of himself, made the comment sound so fleetingly casual that it made her head hurt.

This was their reality. It was normal, to be expected even. Kids were going to die. Kids they saw every day—talked to and laughed with and ate side by side with—one of them was inevitably going to die. Whether it was from another escape attempt or a Griever or something else… it was just a fact. They didn't know who or how or when. For all they knew the Creators were hand-selecting those they wanted to live and those they wanted to die to serve whatever purpose. They were being picked off one by one. And they just had to live with that.

Amy's stomach felt like lead.

Her head was full as she followed the rest of her team to lunch. She felt distracted and not all there and she didn't know how to shake herself out of the stupor.

That is until someone bumped into her.

There was a sharp intake of breath as she jumped back from whomever she'd run into, mouth open to offer a sincere apology, only to be startled by a pair of cold blue eyes that were narrowed on her face.

She took a quick step back and out of the boy's personal space. She couldn't say she recognized him right off the bat but once she saw Ray standing a few inches behind him, her jaw clenched and she realized that yes, she'd seen him around. He was a Bagger, as was Ray who avoided her gaze the second their eyes made contact. Her spine tingled and she swallowed before returning her attention to Blue Eyes whose lips had erupted into a mocking half-smirk.

"Sorry," she felt obligated to say even though she had a feeling she wasn't the one who ran into him.

"You know it's curious," the boy stated suddenly, ignoring her apology. "None of us really know why you're the only girl here," he shrugged in a too-casual way to be genuine. "Everyone's willing to accept that well enough but me? Not so much. Because it doesn't really make any sense. Why would they send a girl up when it's only ever been guys?"

Amy's eyes darted every which way, feeling trapped as she realized her team had already made it to the kitchens and didn't seem to notice she was held back.

"Um," she cleared her throat. "I don't know why I'm here if that's what you mean," she said carefully. She subtly took another step back for safe keeping, feeling uneasy like the situation could get out of hand at any second. "I'm just as clueless as you guys are."

"Why do I not believe you?" he asked rhetorically. He took a step forward to close the distance between them again. "What if you're one of them and they sent you up here to watch us? What if they wanted you to gain our trust just so you could waste us whenever it's convenient for them?"

Amy's mouth ran dry and she shook her head nervously. "I'm sure if they wanted to spy on you they would've been a bit more subtle about it."

His lip curled, annoyed that she dismissed his theory so easily.

"Maybe not. There _are_ other uses for you," he grinned cruelly and she shivered. "I'm sure you could be much more persuasive if you wanted to be. I mean you already have three Keepers wrapped around your finger. Do they think I'm an idiot? You could be faking everything. How do I know you really don't remember anything? How do I know you're not trying to brainwash us?"

"I—I don't… I mean, I guess there's no way of knowing for sure but I promise you—"

"Hey, what's going on?"

Amy closed her eyes and exhaled in relief at the sound of Gally's voice.

Blue Eyes rolled his eyes in irritation. "Oh boy, come to her rescue have you?"

Gally eyed Amy out of the corner of his eye before leveling the boy with a sharp smile. "Well I guess that depends. Are you giving me a reason to?"

The boy clenched and unclenched his fists. "None of you get it, do you? Has it ever crossed your minds that maybe she's working for _them?_ We can't be the only ones who think that!"

Amy assumed he was referring to himself, Ray and two of the other guys that were lingering behind him like shadows. Gally's eyes roamed over their faces and quirked an eyebrow when he saw Ray who tilted his head challengingly in response.

"After what happened last week are you sure you want to start this?" he asked Ray who licked his lips with a tense glare. "Do you _both_ wanna go in the cage?"

Blue Eyes laughed sarcastically. "What, for having a fucking opinion? Is that _illegal_ now?"

Gally marched forward and prodded his chest with his pointer finger. "No but harming a Glader is and if you remember correctly that shank over there physically assaulted her. And with the way your chest was all puffed out like you were dickhead of the hour, I'd say you were _verbally_ assaulting her. That doesn't sit too well with Nick and you'd do well to remember it."

Amy had her arms crossed tightly over her chest as they began to gather a few curious onlookers. She wanted nothing more than for a hole to open up beneath her and swallow her whole.

Blue Eyes slapped Gally's finger away. "Your brain is so fucking warped! I don't trust her and you shouldn't either. You've known me longer, you should be taking my side. _Not_ hers."

"If this is your way of committing social justice then I've gotta say it's a little lacking," Gally tilted his head mockingly. Amy watched as Eddy approached the two cautiously, arms crossed over his chest much like hers. He came to stand at her side and even though he didn't spare her a glance she felt comforted knowing he was there. "We're all in the same boat here. We're supposed to be there for each other and not make accusations. If we all start going against each other, the Creators are going to feel like they've won which means bad news for us," Gally straightened a bit. "If you wanna be a slinthead then fine, be my guest. But maybe stop trying to play the tough guy or else you won't just be bagging the bodies anymore, you'll be one."

Blue Eyes' steely gaze didn't waver, lip curled in disgust and eyes sharp as a blade but he didn't say anything else. Instead, he backed away and gave Amy another reproachful glare before he nudged Ray in the chest and the four of them slinked away, shoulders hunched like spooked cats.

Gally's eyes danced around the small crowd that had formed around them. "Anyone else wanna say something?" his voice rang loudly. He extended his arms. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

When no one said anything he dropped his arms and turned away with a nod.

Amy exhaled shakily, fingers absently twisting a lock of hair between them.

Before Gally was within five feet of her she started babbling, "I swear that wasn't my fault. He bumped into me and he started asking all these questions about why I was the only girl and why no one else seemed to care but him. I didn't want any trouble but he just kept talking and—"

"Whoa," Gally laughed, lifting a hand as if to physically force the words back down her throat with his palm. "Calm down. I'm not mad at you. He's a jerk and always has been."

Amy worried her bottom lip.

"You don't think I'm some sort of spy do you?" she asked hesitantly. She quickly added, "Because I'm not. I don't remember anything, I swear. I think if I was a spy I'd be sleeping a whole lot better at night," she said honestly and Gally rolled his eyes playfully.

"Please. You? A spy?" he snorted at the thought and she gave him an unimpressed look.

" _Anyway,_ " she pressed and he smirked at her. "Thank you," she said sincerely and his face softened a bit. "For sticking up for me. I… feel like I should really learn some self-defense or something."

Gally slung an arm around her shoulders and she immediately stiffened at the contact, muscles tensing as he pulled her body sideways into his as he directed her back towards the kitchen.

"Don't worry about it. We all gotta stick together," he mussed her hair and she jerked her head out of his grasp, making his arm fall from around her. She smoothed her hair down and scowled at him though there wasn't much heat behind it.

"I can't believe people actually think I work for the guys who put us here," she frowned. It made her feel queasy to think of voluntarily agreeing to be sent up in the Box and slowly manipulate her way through the Glade. What kind of person would do that?

Gally rolled his eyes again. "They're just paranoid. I don't think anyone else has even really thought about it like that. I mean sure, we're all _curious_ but that doesn't mean we don't trust you. You look so jumpy and exhausted half the time anyway. I can't imagine anyone being _that_ good of an actor."

Amy squinted at him.

"Thanks," she said, unable to decide if she should be offended or not.

He grinned brightly at her. "I'm here for ya, princess."

* * *

 **present day**

Amy sat with her knees pulled up into her chest as she watched the cage from afar, leaning against the wall of the Bloodhouse.

The sun was just beginning its ascent over the eastern wall and though she'd been sleeping fairly well, she woke when it was still dark and heard muffled cries. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she realized it was Ben, moaning and begging to be released, and she couldn't stop herself from making her way towards the cage.

In his distress, Ben never noticed her approach even as she tried to keep out of his line of sight but she couldn't bring herself to move away after making sure that nothing was seriously wrong.

So she stayed.

She wondered if it was really best for her mentality to listen to his broken sobs and wet groans. It made her cringe every time he called for help, rattling off random names and hoping one of them would come to his rescue. A few times he said he was sorry, asked if they would forgive him. Others he thought it was all just a cruel joke and would ask every few minutes if it was over yet, if they would let him out now. It was obvious to her now that he wasn't in his right mind but it didn't change the fact that he was still human. He was scared. He was crying out to his friends for help but none of them ever came.

"I thought I told you to stay away from here," a soft voice reprimanded her and she wearily lifted her head, catching a familiar head of blonde hair as they crouched at her eye level.

She returned her gaze to the cage, watching the shadow of Ben as he shifted uneasily inside it. "I don't care."

Newt sighed. "Amy…"

"No," she raised her voice, steeling him with a steady glare. "Don't _Amy_ me. He's alone. He's going to die today and he's alone," her eyes glistened as he watched her carefully in the faintness of the dawn. "He didn't ask for this. He didn't ask to be stung. And I get that he's dangerous, okay? I get that. But I can't just forget the fact that he's Ben. He's our friend," Newt broke their gaze and she wrapped her arms around her knees, nodding to herself. "He's always been there for us. He's been there for me. He came up in the Box right after I did. He learned how to deal with this place when I did. So I'm sitting here with him because I'm not going to let him die alone. I'm just going to sit here and be there for him even if he doesn't know it because that's what friends do. That's what family does."

Newt licked his lips, tossing a gentle look at the cage over his shoulder before sighing and falling into place next to her. He rested his elbows on his knees and their shoulders touched.

Ben coughed out another broken sob and Amy shifted in her spot, feeling the echoes of the cry trembling in her gut. Newt noticed and he gave her a reproachful look.

"That's why I didn't want you out here," he admonished quietly.

"I can take it," Amy said.

Newt pursed his lips.

"It's not like I want him to die. You think it was easy making a decision like that?" he muttered. Amy's lips curved downward but she didn't say anything. "It's just what we have to do. It sucks. It's absolute shit and we'll make those bastards pay. For Ben and for everyone else we've lost, we'll make them pay one day," he promised with a fierceness to his voice Amy hadn't heard in a while and she glanced down at the grass beneath their feet. "But for now we just stick to the rules. We play the game."

Amy's lip curled in disgust. "Their lives aren't a game."

"To the Creators they are," Newt countered. He tilted his head until she had no choice but to make eye contact. "We can pretend all we want that we have the upper hand here but the truth of the matter is we don't. So we play the game. We play the game until we find their weakness."

"We've been playing the game for three years," Amy whispered tiredly, tucking her chin on top of her arms. "When is it all going to end?"

Newt shook his head tiredly. "I don't know."

"How did all of this happen?" Amy closed her eyes against the tears gathering in them. "How have we lost so many people?"

Newt didn't answer because he knew there wasn't really any way he could. Amy didn't expect him to try and she laid there for a minute or two, mind faraway before she finally lifted her head and faced Newt. It didn't take long for him to look back.

"We'll make them pay?" she checked, as if to reassure herself. She wanted to make it a promise between them. If he promised it then maybe, just for a second, it'd make everything okay. "We'll make them pay for taking away Ben? And Eric and Nick?" _And Gally,_ her mind whispered.

She watched Newt's jaw clench but he still nodded.

"We will," he told her and something in her mind resonated with his tone. With the promise of payback.

As if it were finally set in stone that yes, one day they would get their revenge. They would make certain that the deaths of their friends did not go without punishment. They would be avenged. If there was one thing Amy could have faith in besides getting out, it was getting out in order to make the Creators pay for what they did.

Amy figured that maybe seeking revenge wasn't the best way to go about it but what else did she have to hold on to? Their lives were hanging by a thread. The Creators were working their strings like puppets, anticipating their every move. They knew not to underestimate the Creators but maybe the Creators should know not to underestimate them.

Amy's eyes drifted back to the cage where Ben was thumping his fists against the bamboo, whining and sobbing as he began reciting his list of names again. This time her name was included and there was a sharp pang in her chest. She slowly dropped her head onto Newt's shoulder, the twist in her gut somewhat placated as the emotions fell from her face and her tears dried.

Newt rested his head on top of hers and they remained there until daybreak.


	10. ben & the rain

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

* * *

 **present day**

Ben was roughly pulled out of the cage by the rope wrapped tightly around his wrists.

Amy felt as though she was going to be sick. Her stomach was coiling and swirling tighter than she'd ever felt it, physically cramping up and making her wince.

The boy cried wetly as he was pulled along, too tired to resist as Alby pulled him forward with gritted teeth. The sound went straight to Amy's heart and she clutched her chest, feeling her eyes beginning to well up with tears. The Keepers had their poles at the ready, spines straight as they waited near the doors for Alby to emerge with Ben.

"Please," Ben cried. "Please don't do this. Please. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. _Please_ …"

Amy cupped her mouth and looked away. Her chest was heavy and she couldn't bear to see his tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. The hazel in them was glimmering but the color was faded as if all the life had been drained from them.

Alby looked pained as he forced the two of them forward, directing them towards the Keepers as the Glade followed a few paces behind. Amy watched her feet as they stepped through the dry grass, focusing on the sound of her shoes brushing against the rough blades and kicking up dirt.

There was a thump as Alby dropped Ben to the ground in front of the Keepers. He looked to Minho first who was watching Ben as if he were seeing a ghost. Alby tilted his head towards Ben's shuddering form and Minho exchanged broken looks with their leader before walking forward slowly. He carefully retrieved a knife from his pocket, biting the inside of his cheek as he glanced down at his friend with glossy eyes. He reached down and severed the bounds on Ben's wrists, who fell forward once he was released. Amy looked away again.

"Please, Minho…" Ben coughed through a sob, knees sliding through the grass as he crawled towards the Runner. He went to place his shaking hands on Minho's boots but Minho stepped out of the way just in time, causing Ben's palms to meet dirt. "Please… I didn't mean to, Minho, please… you have to believe me…"

Ben lifted his head up, pleading Minho with his wet face. Minho watched him with his forehead scrunched up. His fists were clenched so tightly that the veins in his arms were protruding, and when Amy looked closer she saw that his jaw was trembling.

"You're my friend…" Ben whispered in a small voice, eyes wide, and Minho jerked his head away, quickly stepping back and nearly tripping over his own feet as if he couldn't get away from the boy fast enough.

Ben released an anguished cry, fisting the grass and punching the dirt.

" _You're supposed to be my friend!_ " he yelled and the sound bounced off the maze walls, thrumming in Amy's ears like a bell. He pressed his forehead against the ground, wallowing and squirming. "You were supposed to be my friends," he repeated brokenly, this time quieter. He was crouched into a ball, spine curling as his back arched and for a moment it looked like he was praying.

Amy let out a silent cry, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Just do it," Minho hissed through his teeth, his eyes glistening. "Just fucking do it."

The Keepers then lowered their poles towards Ben who gave a strangled yelp once he saw them pointed at him and he stared at them wide-eyed, terrified. The gears of the maze doors then began to grind in a low rumbling tone before they started to close and Ben was forced towards them. He attempted to fight back, to push them out of the way, but he no longer had the strength. Amy closed her eyes again and covered her face with her hands, unwilling to watch anymore as Ben begged and sobbed and pleaded. She heard the footfalls of the Keepers as they continued ushering Ben towards the doors.

He wheezed and whined, begging and pleading anyone who would listen. Once he got about halfway through the doors, he had no choice but to run to the other side to keep himself from being crushed between them. The Keepers pulled their poles out just as Ben gave one last shuddering cry before the doors closed and all was silent.

Amy cried harder, unable to muffle the sounds as she bent forward. Though she paid no mind to the others around her, she could hear their own silent cries carrying through the wind as the Glade wept for the brother they lost.

* * *

 **month one—three years ago**

Amy was sitting in the middle of the Glade resting on a log during lunch. She finished her food earlier than most and was taking some time to herself away from the activity near the kitchen.

They were starting to use the area for bigger bonfires and the boys had carried in broken tree trunks to sit on that surrounded the pit. There was a stack of burned charcoal sticks from the night before still perched within the center of the encampment. Every time the wind blew the ashes would dance out of the pit and scatter amongst the dirt, meshing in with the sand.

Nick had lightened up over the course of the past few weeks. It was obvious he was still troubled by Eric's death and even Amy still thought about it from time to time but his face didn't look so weathered anymore. The bags under his eyes weren't quite as swollen and for the most part he was back to cracking jokes with everyone. It was his idea to bring the Glade to life with their mountainous bonfires and a few days out of the week he would let everyone quit for an early dinner so their fires could last longer.

Amy chalked it up to Nick wanting to take the Gladers' minds off of the past month's events. He was distracting them from making any more escape attempts or reveling too deeply in the way Eric was killed. Of course it didn't stop them from thinking about it on their own time but while they were together it was hopefully the last thing on their minds.

He was also keeping the Runners out of the maze every few days or so. Amy knew those boys were run ragged from their trips through the maze and probably appreciated the extra down time, though Newt had observed to her one afternoon that a few of them didn't seem to know what to do with themselves. Apparently they'd become so accustomed to running the maze that it had simply become a part of them. They didn't know who they were inside the maze's doors which was a conundrum to Amy but she never claimed the right to judge them for it. She supposed in a way she understood.

Even though she'd only been a Builder for a few weeks she'd become used to the trial and error of the job. They were so busy lately finishing the Homestead and beginning construction on the second half of the Bloodhouse that they barely had any time to themselves until the sun was setting. Once she was alone cradled inside her hammock, her mind began to wander. While she was working, she had that release of not feeling obligated to think about anything other than what was right in front of her. Maybe it was the same way for the Runners.

Amy was brought back to reality by a boy marching past her from across the pit. He had raven black hair, shimmering blue in the afternoon sun and Amy immediately recognized him as the boy who saved her from Ray that day in the showers all those weeks ago.

Without thinking, she jumped up from her perch on the log and stumbled towards him.

"Hey!" she called, slipping around the pit before he managed to get away. There was no doubt his legs carried him fast.

The boy stopped and turned in the direction of her voice. She usually saw him with a vest strapped to his chest and clad in his running gear but today he was wearing a simple shirt and pants.

"Minho, right?" she asked breathlessly as she approached him. He nodded and fully faced her as she reached him. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face, feeling a bit hesitant now that she had his attention. "Um," she cleared her throat and he waited expectantly with raised eyebrows. She crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously. "I just wanted to thank you. I realized that I never did that day when, you know..." she was able to acknowledge it inside her head now but it was still difficult to talk about out loud. "I just wanted to say thanks. I don't really want to think about what could have happened if you hadn't shown up."

Minho was rarely in the Glade, as he was Keeper of the Runners. Amy thought about him a few times, reminding herself to try and look for him so she could give him a proper thank you. He was a hard guy to find, practically a ghost. He had an air of mystery about him, though part of that could've just been because he was so difficult to track down. She saw several Gladers sparing him cursory glances whenever he'd walk by, like seeing him in person was so rare that they couldn't help but watch him. He was a bit intimidating and Amy didn't know whether it was because he was a Keeper or if it was because he was a Runner experienced with the maze. Maybe it was both.

For his part, Minho seemed only mildly perturbed by her thanks.

"You're welcome," he said, tone a bit stiff as if he didn't really know what to say. "Ray's a bit of a dick. It's not like I minded pummeling him a little. I've kind of always wanted to he's just never given me a good reason," he admitted and Amy nervously wringed her fingers, chuckling anxiously.

"Yeah well, glad I could be of service then."

She supposed maybe the way he looked was intimidating. His eyes were dark and unreadable, olive skin delicate with sharp cheekbones and a defined jawline. Somehow his hair always managed to look neat, even after a day of sweat and grime in the maze. Minho in general was a conundrum.

Minho looked away for a second, appearing slightly awkward, before he turned back to her.

"Has he tried anything since it happened?" he asked. She couldn't tell if he genuinely wanted to know or if he was just trying to make conversation. She had a feeling it was the latter.

"Um, no. Well I mean, not directly," Amy stumbled. "Him and his friends seem to think that I'm some sort of spy undercover for the Creators. His friend confronted me about it but didn't get very far before Gally interfered."

Minho rolled his eyes.

"Kurt," he nodded, apparently having already known about the Glade's annoying conspiracy theorists. "The shuckheads. They're always stupid paranoid. Don't take it personally, they'll hate anyone who doesn't agree with them. Between you and me they don't know their heads from their asses."

Amy huffed a quick laugh through her nose. The corner of Minho's lips curved up into something of a smile, though it could've just been a muscle twitch. They stood there silently for a moment and Amy felt obligated to fill the silence before it became too uncomfortable and the boy scattered.

"So," she remarked, rocking a bit on her feet. "You're a Runner."

Minho raised his eyebrows again, this time at the obvious redundancy. Amy's cheeks heated up and his stony expression remained but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he watched her backtrack.

"I mean, I don't really know anything about the position besides the fact that you... well... _run_ the maze," she explained inelegantly. "If you're not supposed to tell me anything then I understand. Honestly I probably don't even need to hear it. I'm still not sleeping well at night," she mumbled the last part to herself but Minho still caught it.

He pursed his lips, contemplating on what information he was willing to give.

"It's pretty self-explanatory I guess," he said. He started walking a bit and Amy felt encouraged enough to trail alongside him. "We're trying to map out the maze and see if there's a way out. We sort of have a system but it's still a work in progress. We've only been doing it for a couple months."

"I never tried running in the maze during Keeper training," she said. "I'm certainly not complaining but was that on purpose or…?"

She left the question open and Minho seemed to hear the second half of the question she didn't voice, pursing his lips.

"We don't really play by the rules when it comes to Keeper training," Minho told her. "That's why it's not exactly part of a greenie's welcome pamphlet. It's more dangerous so we have less people. The less people we have running into the maze, the less there are at risk of getting stung by a Griever or, you know, something worse."

Amy had a feeling she didn't want to know what that 'something worse' was. What could be worse than getting attacked by a Griever?

"Have you ever gotten lost?"

Minho snorted. "Too many times to count. You feel like you're losing your mind. Everything looks the same and you think you know which way you came but then you turn the corner and reach a dead end and surprise," he snapped his fingers. "The way you thought you came is gone."

Amy frowned at the idea. "How do you map the maze then? How do you know how to find your way back?"

Minho plopped himself down on one of the logs near the outskirts of the Glade. Amy hadn't realized they ventured so far away from everyone else. She slowly sank down next to him and he didn't seem bothered by her company.

"We literally map the maze on paper," he explained to her, gesturing his hands for emphasis. He made a circle with his thumb and pointer finger. "The Creators were nice enough to send up a compass with our stuff one week. Usually only two of us go in at a time and we share it. It's easier to find your way back once you know which direction you started."

Amy crossed her legs and rested her hands in her lap. "I can't imagine that. I feel like I'm terrible with directions," she laughed quietly. "Just an idea I have about myself. I don't think I could read a map properly," when Minho hummed she glanced at him. "What's the maze like during the day?"

Minho's lips thinned as he thought of a good response.

"Mostly disorienting I guess. It's pretty normal, if you can call it that. There's ivy everywhere. There's usually no signs left behind that the Grievers were there the night before. No one's ever seen one during the day and lived to tell the tale," he leaned in towards her conspiratorially. "We have this theory that something is keeping the Grievers from coming out during the day. I think they're only allowed out at night. I mean, why else wouldn't we see them?"

Amy let his words simmer.

"I guess I never thought about it like that," she side-eyed him. "You think the Creators are behind that?"

He shrugged disdainfully. "They're behind everything else. I think they only let 'em out at night to scare us."

"That's..." Amy nodded to herself, feeling her stomach coil with tension. "That's not good."

The two of them sat in silence for a couple minutes. Amy was mulling over their conversation in her head, storing the information for later. A few of the boys were milling about the area, some heading back to work and eyeing them where they sat before muttering to themselves and pointing indiscreetly. Amy found their stares rather annoying but Minho didn't seem to notice. If he did, he didn't care to comment on it.

Amy could only assume this would add more fuel to Kurt's fire once word got around that she was speaking privately to yet another Keeper. She wondered if it was doing her more harm than good in getting to know the Keepers. It's not like she was purposefully going to those with 'authority' if it could really be called that amongst a group of teenagers. From what she'd seen so far the Keepers were the most accommodating. And nice. Who could blame her for wanting some friendly company?

"Is it weird for you?" her question broke the silence. She nodded towards the open doors when he glanced at her curiously. "Just sitting here instead of being out there in the maze?"

"Yeah," he replied with a casual shrug. "It's kind of exciting though. I never actually get to do this. I don't remember the last time I saw it come up."

Amy felt like she missed something halfway through his comment and she frowned at him.

"Wait, what do you m—"

A piercing groan suddenly echoed in the Glade, startling her in her spot and ringing throughout the clearing. She could feel it reverberating in her gut unpleasantly and immediately she panicked.

"What is that?" she asked, attempting to swallow down her alarm.

"Get ready to be promoted," Minho patted her knee before using it to push himself up. She frowned up at him until he extended a hand to help her to her feet. "Looks like you're not going to be the greenie for much longer," he announced with a light smirk. She steadied herself, head swimming at suddenly being upright.

"Wait, do you mean there's another person coming up in the Box?" she asked quickly and Minho dropped her hand with raised eyebrows before jogging off towards the Box along with the rest of the Glade, leaving her behind.

She watched in stillness for a moment before she slowly trailed after them, rubbing her arms anxiously. In the whirlwind of activity the past few weeks she'd completely forgotten that other kids would be coming up to join them. Had it already been a month?

There was a thick crowd surrounding the Box and Amy didn't try to squeeze her way to the front. She didn't have any good memories associated with the Box and therefore didn't see a reason to get any closer to it than she had to. She lingered in the back and listened to the Gladers as they murmured. She heard the doors fall open with a high-pitched _clang_ and she grimaced at the sound without meaning to. She waited with baited breath as the chatter of the crowd died down. She leaned forward anxiously, wondering if they were so silent because another girl had come up. A part of her desperately wished for that – being the only girl was so alienating.

She could faintly hear some muttering echoing up from within the Box. She gathered from the crowd that it was a boy, much to her dismay, and he was a bit groggy. Apparently Minho had seized the opportunity and clambered into the Box to greet him.

There were a few moments of tense silence before the crowd stepped back in unison as the boy was lifted out of the Box. She heard someone gasping and shifting in the grass before he was assisted to his feet. The boys made way for him and Amy caught sight of a head of light brown hair. He was young, probably around her age.

Nick slapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly, though he didn't seem to notice as he gaped at the Glade's scenery. Amy was sure she had a similar expression when she saw her new world for the first time. He had a slim build with developing muscle in his arms. He was clad in a tank top he'd sweated through and his skin glistened in the sunlight. Alby, the second-in-command, was given instructions to get him washed up. Nick would apparently give him the tour later.

Minho was watching the boy with pursed lips as Alby led the way to the showers. She briefly heard Alby utter a congratulations to her for no longer being the greenbean but she didn't pay him any mind.

The boy was a bit fidgety but his eyes were on high alert and as he passed by her, he glanced her way and she caught sight of a pair of bright hazel eyes.

* * *

 **present day**

The following day was when things started to change.

The day started off fairly normal. The emptiness that Ben left behind was hanging heavy in the air as the Gladers worked at their respective posts. Amy didn't see Minho anywhere that morning. She assumed that he chose to run the maze whether Alby offered him to take the day off or not. It was his release. If anything was going to keep him from coming apart and facing the death of his best friend, it was running the maze.

Amy chose not to speak to anyone unless she was directly spoken to. She found herself in a daze, unable to shake the sorrow that had lodged itself in her gut ever since the previous afternoon. She couldn't get Ben's terrified gaze out of her head and she found herself watching the canopy above her hammock all night, unable to glance anywhere at the material without seeing Ben's scared face stitched into it somewhere. She'd kept her ears open until dawn, a sort of morbid curiosity filling the void as she waited for a scream or a shriek or _something_ from the maze but nothing ever came. She wasn't sure if that reassured her or made her more disturbed.

Thomas was assigned to work with Newt again to start his Keeper training over. She passed by him once and his lips were pressed into a thin line. A few of the boys who'd been closest to Ben scowled at him and there were whispers that some were blaming Thomas for Ben's death. It was clear that the hateful looks were taking their toll on Thomas who halfheartedly worked in the gardens alongside Newt and Chuck.

But the real clicker was when dark grey clouds rolled in overhead during their lunch break and began to spill a torrential downpour.

Amy was sitting under the canopy near the kitchens waiting for dinner when it happened. The sky had been unusually dark which was briefly unsettling before everyone managed to shrug it off. It wasn't uncommon for a few clouds to pepper the sky so no one thought much of it. It wasn't until there was a loud roar from above—a clap of actual thunder that shook everyone to their core—that the Glade silenced. Everyone watched the sky, breathless, before suddenly there was water tumbling to the ground in thick round drops, soaking the grass and turning the dirt to mud.

Amy stared with her mouth hanging open until her tongue ran dry and she was forced to close it. It never rained in the Glade. Never. Amy had almost forgotten what rain looked like—what it sounded like and smelled like.

"That's water," said Eddy next to her, glaring stupidly at the heavy rain and dropping his apple onto the table with a dumbfounded look. "There's water _falling_ from the sky."

Many of the boys jumped away from their benches to step cautiously into the rain, laughing wildly to themselves once they realized it was just water and not acid or some other cruel joke played by the Creators. Amy breathed in the scent of the fresh water, feeling the cool mist on her skin. The air moistened and became sticky and Amy sort of felt like slapping herself. She couldn't believe it was actually raining.

She skidded over to Newt the next chance she got who was watching the rain warily as if he'd never seen anything like it.

"Can you believe this?" she asked, voice barely heard over the static-y white noise of the rainfall. He didn't even blink at her sudden appearance.

"Something's wrong," came Newt's immediate response and Amy nearly snapped her neck as she tore her eyes away from the rain to look at him. She didn't like the expression on his face.

"What do you mean?" she asked slowly.

"I mean it's _raining_ ," Newt stressed, gesturing obviously and holding out his palm to catch a handful of the raindrops. "Not once has it rained here and suddenly it is now?" he gave her a skeptical look with his eyebrows raised. "They must've had a reason to keep it from raining. And now all of a sudden they don't? Something's not right."

The two watched the rain along with everyone else for some time. The temptation to run out into it was strong but Amy resisted, reveling in Newt's words and assessing the validity of them. He certainly had a point.

It wasn't until Thomas approached them asking about Minho and Alby that they realized it was abnormally dark because if the sun were out, it would've already been setting. Amy felt her stomach drop once she realized that under normal circumstances they would've been back by now. Minho and Alby made a great team; they were fast. Usually the two of them came flying through the doors long before they began to close.

"They must be running late," Newt remarked, though he seemed hesitant. Amy watched the emotions flash across his face and she pursed her lips when she saw a brief flicker of worry. "They'll be here."

"What happens if they don't make it?" Thomas dared to ask and there was a hint of a scowl marring Newt's delicate face.

"They'll make it," he said firmly, leaving Thomas no room for an argument.

There was more to it than just the rain. Something else must've been wrong. The rain was just a warning.

The sky continued to darken even after the rain settled into light sprinkles. The air felt uncomfortably cool and moist and the boys huddled under the awning a bit longer than usual after their meals. One by one they began turning their heads towards the doors once word had circulated that Minho and Alby hadn't returned.

Amy felt antsy and she didn't begin her trek towards the doors until Newt couldn't wait any longer. She followed him across the clearing to the doors with the rest of the Glade in tow, feeling as though she were walking to her death.

A sick sense of foreboding began settling heavily in the pit of Amy's stomach as she watched and waited with the boys by her side.

The sun attempted to peek through the black clouds and was making its descent beneath the horizon of the maze as expected and Amy felt as though the Creators were purposefully pulling it out of the sky faster, like the doors of the maze were hardwired to the sunset. But she knew that any second now the doors were going to start closing and the notion of never seeing Minho or Alby again made her feel nauseous. She couldn't bear her last memory of them to be the cryptic, disturbing unknown of what had happened to them beyond the walls like Ben.

Amy could feel Newt a step behind her on her left. Half of her body was pressed back against his arm and chest, hand clutching his wrist in a painful grip, anchoring her. He stood unmoving, unbreathing, but was leaning into her just as much as she was him, as if they were keeping each other upright.

The faith of the group was wavering as the sky darkened even more.

"They would've been back already," Gally said quietly, voice trembling. A lump formed in Amy's throat as she turned to face him where he stood on the other side of Thomas. He looked lost and confused but his eyes were widened with a terror that had nothing to do with what lurked in the shadows beyond the doors. He almost couldn't believe it himself. "They're not going to make it."

It was what all of them had begun to think, but to hear the words out loud made it seem permanent. Amy jerked her head back to the maze, hearing the unmistakable roar of the gears grinding to life. A mechanical whine erupted and then suddenly the space between the doors began to shrink.

She felt like she was being ripped apart from the inside out. Her vision blurred and everything warped as traitorous tears fell down her cheeks. Her fingers clasped tighter around Newt's wrist and she felt his muscles steel beneath her skin. Newt looked broken, face emotionless but eyes glistening with haunting loss. His jaw clenched and unclenched, eyes twitching every which way for any sign, any sign at all, of Minho and Alby. And then his shoulders slumped and he fell resolute.

Amy choked on a sob and her knees shook beneath her. The cruel resolve in Newt's eyes rendered her speechless and she felt the world shattering and crashing down around her. She felt hope was lost the moment she looked into his empty eyes.

"Wait!" Chuck shrieked, and those who had begun to turn back to the Homestead halted. "There!"

Amy's breath stilled in her throat, following his finger that was pointed somewhere in front of him. The doors were nearly halfway shut and yet, as she squinted into the darkness, she was able to make out two barely discernible shapes. Shapes that were very much human.

Her heart soared and she felt a bit dizzy but it was short-lived when she realized the severity of the situation. Minho was struggling with a limp body he was dragging alongside him and Amy's stomach dropped. Whatever had happened to Alby he was out cold and Minho was a few meters away still from salvation and the doors only had a couple of feet left between them.

All noise dissolved into nothingness around her. Everything slowed down at half speed and suddenly she was in slow motion. She thought nothing could compare to the thought of not knowing her friends' fates, but she now realized how wrong she was.

Seeing them so close yet so far was much, much worse.

They were going to die. Scared and alone. Only a few feet away from their escape and everyone else had to accept that. How could she? A part of her soul had been taken from her the second her memories were wiped clean. Over the past three years the boys of the Glade had begun sewing her back together. If she lost two of the most important people in her life – two people that made her feel like maybe she wasn't quite so worthless – she didn't know if she could come back from that.

Without meaning to her head turned to see Thomas at her right, his shoulders squared. While everyone else had already succumbed to their grief, their finality, a fire was ablaze in his eyes. Like a magnetic pull, he turned to meet her gaze and she didn't have trouble at all reading the look on his face. It was all too familiar because it mirrored hers.

And suddenly, everything shifted. And she knew.

She turned back to Newt, mapping out every inch of his face in hopes of swallowing enough of the detail that she'd be able to conjure up a realistic image in her head later when there was no comfort left. His eyes were bloodshot, tears ghosting over the prominent rise of his cheekbone and sinking down below his jaw line, leaving a glistening trail in their wake. His eyes were cloudy and hazy, unseeing, and his lips were pulled into a permanent frown.

She suppressed the urge to wrap her arms around him; to feel safe and protected in his embrace like nothing could hurt her. When she was with him she was immortal. Not once had it occurred to her that maybe one day she'd never see him again. It was unthinkable, didn't make sense. Ever since she could remember, he was there. He was the first to greet her, the first to climb into the Box and offer her his hand. He was the first to provide solace when she didn't understand and the first to make her feel as though she had a place – a purpose.

That's all any of them really wanted: a reason worth living. A reason to continue on in a world set against them. Somehow along the way he'd become her reason. And now she might not ever see him again.

Damn shame.

Amy finally tore her eyes away from Newt, feeling strangely numb and resolute, before returning her gaze back to Thomas who hadn't looked away from her. His eyes glimmered with the understanding of a friend. He knew what she was giving up. He was hurting with her and he was hurting for her.

So little that no one else saw it, she gave a slight nod. And Thomas returned it.

When she turned back to the maze there was only about four feet of space left. It was just enough and she didn't let herself think twice. She ran.

She felt Thomas' presence behind her and noises of shock flooded her ears as her senses returned. Newt's strangled yell was the last thing she heard before she thrust herself between the doors and suddenly time was no longer standing still. It was moving too fast.

Amy forced herself forward with as much speed as she could muster, throwing an arm behind her with what little space she had left to grab onto Thomas whose hand was on her back. He pushed her forward with his momentum while she pulled him forcefully along with her. Her head spun as she felt the doors brushing against both shoulders and the claustrophobia threatened to eat her alive. The further they ran, the longer the distance seemed to grow between their freedom and their demise.

Her vision darkened and with a cry she threw herself from between the doors, Thomas quick to follow just as the doors slammed shut with a deafening rumble.

And then all was silent.

Amy gasped, wincing at the burn on her forearms as she braced herself on the cold ground. Sweat glistened at her brow and she coughed, the humidity of the air threatening to suffocate her. The air was thick and wet and it felt as though she'd run straight through the maze doors and into the belly of a Griever.

In all honesty, it probably wasn't too far from the truth.

Before she had the chance to move she was forced up by two fists in her shirt and suddenly her back was thrown against a moss-covered wall and she yelped in shock.

Minho was seething in front of her, eyes nearly red with rage as he glared at her.

"You _stupid_ shank!" he hissed. "Do you have a death wish? Are you that jacked in the head that you care so little about yourself? _Do you have any idea what you've just done?_ " he roared, shaking her with every word.

Amy's heart thudded painfully in her chest, eyes wide as she recoiled. She'd never seen him so angry before.

"Well?" he snapped impatiently, gripping her shirt tighter.

"I wasn't going to leave you guys," she said finally, voice unsteady and small at being reprimanded. "I couldn't leave you here, I had to do something."

Minho growled and kicked himself away from her, looking as though if he didn't keep his distance he'd start throwing punches. She kept herself against the wall and watched him pace. Thomas was on his knees by Alby's unconscious form, gaze flickering between the two of them warily.

"You're so selfish, Amy. So selfish and so stupid and _shuck_ I just want to wring your little neck—"

"Okay, I get it," Amy snapped back, feeling less afraid and more annoyed. Maybe a little insulted. "I'm an idiot and you want me dead. I get it. Better watch it though," she smiled humorlessly. "Better do it quick before one of the Grievers beats you to it."

Minho growled and in two strides he was nose to nose with her, fists slamming on either side of her head and she jumped back. He was breathing heavy, eyes all black.

"Do you have any idea what you've done to me? To Newt? What would Alby say? The one thing all of us have tried to do since day one was keep you safe and now you've signed your own death warrant."

"As long as Newt is on the other side of that wall then my conscience is clear," she told him, unable to raise her voice as his fists clenched and unclenched near her ears. "I don't care what happens next. I'm here for you and Alby."

"Newt is going to fall apart without you there!"

"He was going to fall apart anyway because you two were gone!"

Minho narrowed his eyes into slits.

"So what, you thought you'd pick at the wound some more? Add a little bit of salt? The one thing I had going for me was knowing the two of you were still in the Glade. Selfish, Amy. You're _so_ selfish. First Ben and now this…" his voice caught in his throat and he could do nothing but shake his head, eyes glistening.

"I'm so sorry about Ben, Minho," Amy cried suddenly. "I'm _so_ sorry."

Minho didn't respond. She sobbed, feeling emotionally drained and slightly hysteric at the fact that she'd made Minho upset. She didn't mention Ben again.

"You have to understand," she stressed hoarsely. "I couldn't do nothing. I had to come, I had to try. I love you guys, I can't live without you. You're my family, you have to ," she begged barely above a whisper, grabbing onto his forearms to steady herself. "I'm tired, Minho. I'm tired of everything. We've only ever had one of two options here: die, or live to suffer the loss. And I'm done suffering. I'm done losing people."

Minho shook his head again, less murderous but still angry. "So you leave Newt to suffer all of us alone?"

"He's not alone," Amy said and it was true. He wouldn't be alone, not really. "You know that."

Minho licked his lips. "For three years whenever someone's been left here overnight they've never been seen again. Why would this time be any different?"

He brought his hands into her hair and grabbed handfuls of it tightly and Amy wondered if he was just going to shake her with all his might but he didn't.

"You didn't come here to save us," he said in a deadly voice. "You came here to die with us."


	11. the maze

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the _Maze Runner_ series nor any recognizable storylines from the novels/movies. I only own my character(s) and basic plot of this story. This is rated T for language and mature scenes.**

* * *

 **present day**

He jerked away from her finally, unable to stand the sight of her any longer and she exhaled slowly, shakily, her stomach churning and threatening spill whatever was left of its contents.

"Look, no one said anything about dying," Thomas spoke up for the first time, still kneeling near Alby's body. Amy stared at him through half-lidded eyes, having trouble making out the features on his face with how dark it was growing around them. "We're going to take this one step at a time. If I can help it, no one here is dying tonight."

Amy swallowed thickly and rolled her head upward, staring at the vast sky above. There were no stars, though for some reason she really wished there were. She hadn't seen them in so long. She needed some sort of semblance that not all surrounding her was evil. She needed some evidence of purity or good that could cleanse her soul from the darkness threatening to smother it. She felt like a caged animal.

Minho scoffed, shaking his head. "Stupid, the both of you."

"Are you just going to give up?" Thomas demanded, climbing to his feet. "Just lay down and die? Offer yourself up to the Grievers without so much as a fight?"

Minho looked weary and tired as he leaned against the wall opposite Amy. "There's just three of us, man. Not even that's enough against one of those bastards. The second those doors closed we were dead."

"Yeah, so you've said," Thomas spat, throwing his arms up in the air. "But we're still alive now, aren't we?" The light of the moon cast an eerie glow over their features and Amy shivered, trying not to feel spooked. "I like to think we get a say in our own lives. So unless you want to be a coward, maybe you can try to help keep us breathing."

Minho wiped a hand down his face, glancing up at the night sky much like Amy had. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was, about the stars.

"What's wrong with Alby?" she finally asked.

Minho didn't look at her but he still answered.

"Griever got him," he said and she winced, heart squeezing painfully behind her ribcage. "I did what I had to do before he started Changing."

"Let's start with him then," Thomas said, quickly grabbing onto one of Alby's limp arms and hoisting it over his shoulder. "We can't exactly run around with him in the maze with Grievers on our tails. He's just dead weight, he'll hold us back."

"What exactly do you expect us to do?" Minho retorted with a bit of snark.

"We hide him," Thomas said, determined. "Put him somewhere safe where the Grievers can't get to him. That way we can come back for him in the morning."

Minho gestured around them with attitude as if to say, _"Look around, slinthead."_

"Where do you suppose we hide him?" Amy asked carefully, seeing as how Minho didn't dignify Thomas with an actual response.

Thomas quickly motioned Minho forward, signaling to Alby's other side and with a roll of his eyes Minho came to help lift him up.

"Let's go find somewhere," Thomas announced once they were both standing. He gazed over at Amy and tilted his head, silently asking her to follow them and with a deep breath she pushed away from the wall.

Amy wasn't sure how long they walked.

Time seemed to have no meaning in the maze and the further they got from the entrance the more uneasy she felt. There was a voice whispering in the back of her head that they'd never find their way back. Minho may know the maze backwards and forwards in the daylight but at night it was another thing entirely. She tried engraining into her mind every twist and turn they took as Thomas looked for a gully in the walls that the Grievers couldn't reach. Right, right, left, right, left, left.

She tried not thinking about the Grievers but after so long of hearing nothing but their own erratic breaths and uneven footsteps she couldn't help but wonder where they were. Every movement her eyes could perceive would stiffen her shoulders. The darkness made her feel on edge and disoriented and the shadows that licked at the edges of her vision nearly rendered her catatonic. She wasn't sure if the shadows were even there or if they were just figments of her imagination due to her paranoia.

Every now and then the hushed whispers of Thomas and Minho would reach her ears. She assumed with her lack of visibility that her other senses would heighten but even in the dark she strained to hear their words. Their tones were harsh and Amy figured them butting heads was the least of her worries so she trailed along after them in silence.

At one point Minho whispered loud enough to where Amy could hear him that they were venturing too far from the doors and needed to circle back. They were inching closer to the section of the maze that was going to open up for the night and Amy didn't question him on it. She was quick to turn on her heels and march back the way they came, only to be halted by Thomas.

"Look at this," he whisper-shouted and she turned to where his free arm was pointing upward.

She squinted as she tried following its direction and upon closer inspection she recognized a free-hanging vine dangling a few feet above their heads against the wall. He carefully removed himself from underneath Alby's arm and Minho huffed at the extra weight he had to support.

Thomas inspected the vine, trying to discern where it was coming from. As quietly as he could, he pulled the moss, digging into it to find the other end of the vine.

Amy dared to glance behind her, though her observations were quickly rendered useless as she couldn't see anything anyway. She turned her back to the wall adjacent from where Thomas was standing, feeling more comfortable knowing there was something solid behind her rather than open air.

Out of nowhere, a horrible groan echoed throughout the maze, startling the three of them as they jumped.

After hearing nothing for so long the loudness made their ears ring. The groan was followed by shifting concrete, walls graveling against one another with metallic _clangs_ that pierced the air.

"The maze is changing," Minho said, gripping Alby tighter. "The next sector is opening. We don't have much time."

Thomas had halted his movements in fear of the horrible sound but after hearing Minho's warning he continued peeling the moss away with fervor.

"Here," he finally said, grabbing hold of the other end of the vine. He tugged on it and the end that dangled above them swayed a little. "We use this as a pulley."

He dug the toe of his shoes into the moss at his feet and propelled himself upward to grab the vine. He pulled Minho and Alby forward and took hold of Alby around his chest, quickly replacing his arms with the vine and wrapping it tight around the boy's torso. Careful to not crush his ribs, Thomas secured the vine in a knot and tugged on it roughly a few times to test its strength. It didn't budge.

He sat Alby on the ground and took hold of the vine's other end. He grabbed the other end of the vine, gazing down at Alby before gripping the rope tightly and squaring his knees. When nothing happened he turned to look at Minho and Amy, who were both staring blankly right back at him. Thomas rolled his eyes.

" _Help me_ ," he stressed with a flare of annoyance and something finally clicked, jumping them into action as they grabbed onto the rope as well.

The roaring of the maze had become white noise to their ears to the point that they hadn't even noticed it anymore until suddenly the noise came to an abrupt end and it was unnervingly quiet once more. They paused, sparing each other nervous looks, before they combined their strength and pulled hard.

Alby was carefully lifted from the ground, rising a few inches every couple of seconds. Amy was stood in the middle of the two as she had less upper body strength than they did and she felt Minho peek his head around the corner as they continued to pull with all their might.

He was shaking like a leaf. From the exertion or something else, she couldn't tell. But upon looking back into his face, whatever he saw down the path had him rooted to the spot, eyes wide and glossed over with fear.

"Keep pulling," Thomas hissed over his shoulder and she blinked herself out of her stupor, feeling faint, and gritted her teeth as she yanked harder on the vine. Her hands were starting to cramp up and sweat. Alby was a couple of feet off the ground now, hanging precariously above their heads. The vine held true and kept him in place. Thomas huffed and pulled a little more, Amy following in his wake but she felt Minho fall limp behind her.

"Oh god," he whispered shakily, voice having risen an octave higher. He inched closer to her, his stuttering breath fanning over her neck in hot puffs and his fingers relinquished their hold on the vine in order to grip her waist tightly instead.

"Minho," she breathed, too afraid to say anything else. He was still watching around the corner, pursing his lips as his chin fluttered and trembled at the sight he was met with.

His eyes widened further and the sound of metal rang in her ears, thumping dully on the ground below and echoing off the walls with a hint of malice. The foreboding stilled her as the rumbling of the thing's footfalls grew louder and all the strength she'd mustered left her. Thomas undoubtedly heard it too and he kept a steady hand on the vine to keep Alby from plummeting to the ground.

Gasping, she felt Minho's lips at her ears and he uttered just loud enough to where she and Thomas could hear him, " _Run_."

Minho grabbed one of Amy's hands off the vine.

"But it's not secure—" Thomas started, only to sputter and struggle with the weight of holding Alby up by himself as Amy was heaved away.

Amy gasped and tried prying her fingers from Minho's grasp but he kept an iron-tight grip on her hand and ran, forcing them down the path furthest from Thomas with a look of hysteria in his eyes.

"What about Thomas!" she cried but Minho didn't answer her.

Instead he veered to the left and shoved them down another pathway, only to halt suddenly and pull Amy into him against the wall with his hand over her mouth, muffling her yelp into his palm.

Amy tried to calm her breathing, feeling the rise and fall of Minho's chest against her back as she leaned into him, unable to stop the tremors from rushing through her body. She could feel her throat closing up as pangs of fear shot through her gut and straight up into her heart. She couldn't remember ever feeling this scared, in her current life or past. She assumed intense fear of that magnitude was something the brain or the body could remember, like muscle memory. But this terror was shocking her nervous system, like bolts of electricity coursing through her veins, and she almost couldn't keep herself upright.

In this moment she was thankful that Minho was holding her because otherwise her knees probably would've buckled.

The dull clanging of the metallic legs echoed off the walls and down into their passageway, tricking them into believing it was closer than it actually was. At least they certainly hoped. Amy was relieved that she didn't hear Thomas' screams, or possibly Alby's, and she eased her mind into trusting that he found somewhere to hide before the monster crossed his path.

Her relief was only fleeting though for the mechanical footsteps were ringing louder in her ears and she realized with horror that the creature had turned down the pathway they'd just ran down and was headed straight for them. There was no way the Griever would miss them; not even the faded, neutral colors of their clothing could conceal them from its unnatural eyesight. Amy had no doubt that they were remarkable hunters, especially at night.

Minho slowly removed his hand from her mouth and she tried to steady her breath as he carefully lifted a foot, quietly stepping further down the passage. He kept a steely grip on her hand, their sweat mixing together and leaving their hands wet and hot, and tugged her along with him. Amy's wide eyes followed the vague movement of their feet on the ground, ever mindful of the soft crackles of their shoes below them and wincing every time a small rock or gravel obstructed their path.

The moon was high and bright and provided just enough light that if Amy squinted she could make out the hazy silhouette of a shadow reflecting off the ground as the monster approached from behind. It was misshapen and grotesque, made of odd angles and not at all symmetrical, and Amy was horrifyingly fascinated by it. Minho had to tug a bit harder on her hand to snap her out of her daze and when she came to, she sincerely hoped the only image of the Griever she'd see tonight would be that shadow.

She collided gently with Minho's shoulder, realizing that he'd come to a stop. She couldn't bring herself to tear her gaze from the shadow that grew larger, reflecting along the mossy wall of the maze and revealing its sheer size, but as Minho began to pull her with him again, she understood that they were turning down another path.

Just before she turned fully, something glinted and sparkled at the end of the passageway. And the second she rounded the corner, out of the thing's sight, she realized it was a leg.

Amy could hardly walk straight as her body shook. It was hard for her to swallow but she forced the saliva back down her throat so she could breathe. The needles in her stomach were unrelenting and she was starting to get a headache.

She idly wondered if it were possible to actually be scared to death.

Minho stopped in his tracks, tilting his head every which way to listen for any signs of the Griever. Amy wasn't much help, unable to hear over the blood pumping in her ears, but when Minho's shoulders relaxed she exhaled a bit.

"What about Thomas?" she whispered. The thick silence that surrounded them weighed heavy in the air and made her voice seem a lot louder than it actually was.

Even though every fiber of her being screamed to stay put, to not go out in the open and try to remain unnoticed, she couldn't bear the thought of abandoning Thomas. Not after he ran in with her, not after the mutual understanding that crossed between them right before signing their lives away to the maze. Her fear was threatening to eat away at her until there was nothing left, but the guilt would finish her off way before that fear ever could.

Minho dug his fingers into her palm, squeezing slightly and leaving indents in the skin from his nails that stung.

"Shut up," he hissed, clenching his jaw. She could still see the slight anger etched into the creases of his face and she figured he would probably continue to resent her for a while for running into the maze after him.

"We can't just leave him," she whisper-snapped, unable to stop herself. "He was willing to come in here for you. Making him go about this place on his own is a pretty poor way to repay him."

Minho turned to face her, eyes narrowed and face scrunched as if he tasted something sour. He looked about ready to hit her again or shake her until some sense rattled loose in her brain but instead he only grabbed her hand tighter.

"Come on," he muttered and together they ran down the far end of the passage, expanding the distance between them and the Griever and Amy was not complaining.

They jogged for a while, every now and then coming up on a crossroads and scurrying down other pathways. Amy trusted Minho's judgment and reassured herself that he knew where he was going. She hoped that his intentions were to find Thomas but even Amy knew how big the maze was. If Thomas had managed to venture deep enough into its chasm, it wasn't likely they'd ever cross his path again.

Amy studied Minho's tactic as they ran, keeping note of every passage he avoided and learned that he was steering clear of the west side. Her only guess was that it housed the sector that had just opened up and they had a better chance of going unnoticed the further they strayed from it.

She lost track of time again. Every so often Minho would slow to a steady pace so they could regain their breath. Her lungs felt like they were on fire, not having exerted so much physical energy at one time. She wasn't out of shape – if anything, she was in better shape now than when she first entered the Glade – but she wasn't a Runner either. Her body had been toned and molded to fit that of a Builder. She wasn't accustomed to all the cardio.

Her tongue and throat were running dry, burning as she breathed heavily, and Minho let her have a sip of what was left in his canteen. They needed all the water they could spare and though she desperately wished to swallow the rest whole, she resisted and allowed him to pocket the canteen again with a few sips to spare.

They rarely spoke. There was the occasional "come on" from Minho after their breaks, fearing to stay in one place for too long. Amy was beginning to feel tired, the day's events wearing her thin. She desperately wished for some kind of noise to keep her from zoning out. Every time they stopped her eyes felt heavy and sore, but even if for some unfathomable reason Minho suggested they sit down and rest, she knew sleep would not come to her. Not in this place.

The moon was vast and illuminating overhead when she finally got her wish.

They'd been running down a long passageway on the south east side somewhere close to the doors when they heard the shriek. It was that familiar, gut-wrenching howl that stopped them in their tracks even when they weren't in the maze.

A Griever.

It was close by and it was not happy.

The metallic thuds of its footfalls were constant. Clearly the thing was running. The whining noises echoed around them, bouncing off the walls and disorienting them as to which direction it was coming from. And then there was a very human scream.

"Thomas," Amy breathed, horror gripping like claws at her throat and threatening to choke the life out of her.

Minho raced forward, following his instincts, and Amy was quick to tail him, ignoring the voice in her head that screamed for her to turn around and run as far away as she could. It was like nails on a chalkboard as the onslaught of shrieks continued, howling and reverberating. The further they ran, the louder it got and soon they reached another crossroads.

Minho made to turn down one of the passages when his body slammed into another. He quickly caught the both of them, keeping them from falling, and Amy skidded to a stop.

Thomas was sweating and dirty, panting, eyes wide with panic. Amy didn't have time to ask if he was okay or throw her arms around him or whatever her brain wanted her to do because the ground trembled beneath her and her eyes caught sight of a sickly large figure at the end of the pathway, stomping with a purpose right towards them with a guttural snarl.

Amy didn't know how to describe it. Half robotic and half organic, the thing clobbered its way between the walls of the maze with spider-like movements. Its legs easily supported its large, bulbous torso and ran with a speed clearly programmed to pursue and destroy its prey.

" _GO!_ " Minho thrust Amy in front of him and pushed her forward, forcing her to run ahead. She blindly reached a hand behind her as she obeyed, feeling sick and terrified, and a hand quickly reached hers and squeezed.

She felt as though she were pulling both Minho and Thomas along as she ran as fast as her tired legs would carry her. The beast had slammed into one of the far walls like thunder but had quickly regained its composure and stormed after them. Its massive footfalls echoed and followed in their wake, catching up to them with ease and taunting them as they ran as if to say, _"You cannot outrun me."_

Amy screamed, a raw and gravely sound that felt as though it tore blood from her throat. She pressed onward, turning down random corridors, unknowing if the next turn would be their last as the Griever caught up to them. Or they reached a dead end. Minho seemed to sense her worry regarding this as through the hysteria he would occasionally steer her one way or the other by reaching forward and pushing her shoulder in a certain direction, proving that a few times she would have had them cornered.

It was amazing how much the human body could endure and push its own limits. Just when the roar of the Griever seemed a little too close for comfort, she managed to run even faster. It had gotten to the point where she could no longer feel her legs, numb from running so long and so far. Her head was pounding as she tried grasping at the last strands of the oxygen she had left in her lungs.

And what happened next was almost cliché in a way. At least, she felt like it was.

She tripped.

After her legs exceeded their own capacity and beyond, she shouldn't have been surprised that her luck had run dry. One minute she was lightning and the next she was slamming into the earth knee first with a yelp.

The way the vibrations of the ground traveled up her leg and into her gut, she realized that she must have taken some sort of damage. Her knee was probably cut up pretty bad, if it wasn't dislocated, but her mind wasn't able to register any pain. She wasn't sure if that comforted her or not.

Minho yelled, bounding over her out of reflex before quickly turning around and kneeling to hoist her up. Her leg didn't seem to want to cooperate, her foot and ankle tingling as she tried pressing her weight on it.

The Griever roared with delight, quickly gaining on them and seemingly unaffected by the chase, and Amy cried out as Minho wrapped his arms around her and tugged. For a few seconds her mind went blank. It was one thing to hear them roar and gurgle from the safety of the Glade, to hear their snarls echoing in your subconscious as you tried to sleep, or the tremble in your spine when stories of the Grievers were told around a blazing fire.

But it was another thing entirely to see the monster clambering after you, hideous mouth slobbering and watering, and realizing that you were about to be its chew toy.

The sounds and the stories were nothing compared to the feeling of death's breath on your face.

Thomas raced back to them and attempted to help Amy stand but Minho growled at him.

"Keep going!" he shouted, voice straining.

With a yell he hefted her up and placed her back in front of him and they were running again. Amy's leg was a bit more responsive this time and she was able to force the injury to the back of her mind as she picked up speed once more. When Minho thought she was stable enough, he let go of her waist and instead returned his hand to one of hers and they ran side by side.

As Thomas dashed down a different passageway, there was another loud groan. It didn't match the Griever but instead the sound they'd heard earlier. The shifting of concrete, the rumbling of the walls and ground as the maze moved unnaturally, disturbing the air. Thomas paused and Minho and Amy were unable to slow their momentum as they darted past him.

"Come on!" Minho screamed over his shoulder. The walls on either side of them began to close in as the earth below shook and Amy's heart leapt into her throat. She tried glancing over her shoulder and was able to catch Thomas standing at the end of the passageway as if he were waiting for something.

"Thomas!" she yelled hoarsely. She could vaguely hear him shouting something in return, though his eyes weren't facing them but instead the thing that was after them. He waved his arms tauntingly before finally following them through the small pathway.

The Griever took the bait, snarling at Thomas and snapping at his head, so close that Amy was sure the next time she blinked Thomas would be gone. Her and Minho slammed into solid concrete, escaping the ever-closing walls and watching with baited breath as Thomas raced after them, the Griever still hot on his trail and waving it's bulging head about wildly with a fury that settled heavily in the pit of Amy's stomach.

With a cry, Thomas burst through the walls just as they were about to close and the creature tried jumping the length but the walls were unforgiving. They closed as far as they could, trapping the beast within with a sickening crunch and squelch.

Panting harshly, Amy collapsed onto the ground and Minho slid down the wall with her.

Her mind was racing so fast that her thoughts were unable to catch up with it. She realized that she was alive, still breathing, and unreasonably so because the Griever should have gotten them. She also realized how much pain her body was in from all the exertion; how unbelievably tired she was, how sore her lungs were, how much her head throbbed and how sweaty she was.

With hardly any energy left, she slumped against Minho's side and he rested his head on top of hers as they tried to return their breathing to normal. Thomas was leaning against the wall near Minho, eyes wide and disbelieving as he stared at the remnants of the creature, its shimmering silver legs partially sticking through the open slot in the walls.

Amy chanced a brief glance at Minho and upon feeling her eyes on him, he returned her gaze. His skin was glistening with sweat and he pulled her close to him, arm slung around her shoulder and squeezing her. All his anger seemed to be forgotten for now, apparently just thankful they were both alive.

Thomas' voice eventually broke the silence.

"How's your leg?"

Surprised, Amy lifted her leg a bit to get a good look. There was a deep gash along her knee, both wet and dried blood coating the angry red skin that was exposed through the tear in her pants along with tiny pieces of rock and debris. The wound was still unnervingly numb but at the moment she didn't have it in her to care.

"It got tore up good," Minho noted, peering down at it with her. "Hopefully it's not infected."

"I'm glad _we're_ not infected," Amy pointedly said, coughing a bit.

"You're telling me," Thomas muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a bit.

Whilst Amy and Minho needed to sit down and relax in order to deal with the events that had just taken place, Thomas apparently couldn't stop moving. He was thinking too much, like he couldn't contain his own thoughts. Amy had a feeling she probably didn't want to know what he was thinking about.

"Hey," Minho called, nodding at Thomas. The boy stopped and stared expectantly down at him. "Nice job with the Griever," he tilted his head towards the carcass. "It was smart."

Thomas seemed surprised by Minho's compliment but Minho's expression gave nothing away as he turned to face the opposite wall. Amy smiled a little to herself, glad they seemed to have formed some sort of camaraderie.

Amy's weariness was returning to her. She was reminded of how long it had been since she'd gotten any sleep. The moon was beginning its descent in the night sky and soon it would be painted in shades of pink and gold, welcoming a new dawn. The three of them remained silent but alert, resting their aching joints. Thomas eventually gave in and took a seat as well, leaning his head back against the wall with his fingers tangled in his hair. Minho was absently rubbing soft circles on the exposed skin of her shoulder and as her mind wandered, she became entranced by it.

Her mind kept gravitating back to the chase. The moisture of the Griever's sticky warm breath caressing her neck, the sound of its mechanical legs thumping in harmony with the beat of her heart, its guttural roars resonating in her ears and quaking in her gut. How did a creature like that even exist? Part machine with living tissue. It sounded like something out of a science fiction novel, not that she could ever remember reading one. It defied all the laws of nature. She had a feeling that if technology had advanced into extreme robotics she would know. It would seem natural to her. But something told her things like this didn't exist – _shouldn't_ exist. It baffled her. She was left with even more questions and less answers. It was maddening.

The worst part was she had this strange, ominous feeling that the Grievers were made for the maze. And in essence, made for them.

But that couldn't be possible, right?

Amy didn't know what to believe anymore and that frightened her more than anything.

"We should start heading back," Minho's tired voice startled her out of her thoughts. Amy turned to face him, eyes watering from not blinking in her daze, and he scratched his head before removing his arm from around her shoulders. "You good to stand?"

She wasn't sure but she nodded anyway. Minho took her elbow and helped pull her to her feet and she forced the wince off her face as she applied pressure to her left leg. At least she finally felt something in her knee. She bit her lip, inwardly wishing the numbness would return.

"We're east of the doors," said Minho, brushing off his pants and readjusting his straps. He let Thomas and Amy borrow his canteen and they finished off the water. "Let's go get Alby and then head for the entrance. It should be opening in an hour or so."

Despite how her leg protested at the movement, she jogged alongside them and matched their stride, too wary to linger. The maze hadn't made any sudden noises ever since the incident with the Griever, which Amy assumed meant that it was going back to sleep for another day. But they couldn't afford to take any chances. They'd stayed too long by the Griever's body but rest had been inevitable and no certain amount of time could have prepared them for running through the maze again.

They traveled for the better part of an hour. Amy's mind was hazy from lack of sleep. She wasn't able to focus much on where they went, only that she needed to follow the person in front of her. She had to force back the part of her that wanted to lay down and just cease to exist.

The sky was transitioning from a deep blue to a pale grey as the sun began its peek over the horizon when they approached the clearing near Alby's body. Much to their relief he hadn't been tampered with and continued to hang high above the ground where they'd left him, still unconscious.

"I tied it down here," Thomas kneeled and unfastened the vine from where it'd been wrapped near the base of the wall. Minho and Amy helped steady the vine and slowly they lowered Alby. Amy untied the vine from around his torso and the two boys were quick to throw an arm each over their shoulders and hoist him up.

They led the way. Minho looked as though he would've preferred having Amy in front but seeing as she didn't know the way back to the doors they had to take the lead. Amy didn't feel uncomfortable taking up the rear of the group, but the walls of the maze still set her on edge no matter what time of day it was. It continued to disorient her and though the fact remained that Minho had run through the maze a hundred times over, it still baffled her as to how he knew which way to go. She couldn't make sense of the winding turns and dead ends. Everything looked the same.

"We're close now," Minho announced a few minutes later. "Just a little bit longer."

Amy gritted her teeth. Her knee was really giving her fits. It felt bruised and the gash was irritated and inflamed. She was beginning to realize that if she didn't get it cleaned and checked out soon, something might go wrong.

A droning gear whirring to life startled her out of her thoughts. Her heart rose and she grinned, recognizing the sound immediately.

It was finally registering to her that they did it. They beat the odds.

They survived a night in the maze, something all Gladers had deemed impossible. They weren't dead, torn to pieces or swallowed by a Griever. They weren't trapped somewhere in the maze's endless abyss. They were alive. All of them.

"Just this way, come on!" Minho said breathlessly.

Together, he and Thomas picked up their pace and Amy was quick to follow. She could hear the uplifting tone of his voice and knew he must've been thinking the same thing. They made it.

The grinding of metal grew louder and suddenly they rounded a familiar corner. Their ears were met with little Chuck's shocked laughed and the Gladers quickly surrounded him on all sides, equal expressions of surprise and disbelief etched onto their faces. It looked as though most of them had camped out by the doors overnight, as a few were still scattered about the area and clambering up to join the crowd.

A head of blonde hair caught Amy's eye and her breath caught in her throat. She'd never been so happy to see that lanky boy in her life. His hair was tousled, clothes wrinkled, with his face pale and eyes swollen and blotched. He looked about as good as she felt and she wondered hauntingly if he had gotten any sleep at all that night; if their screams had kept him awake. She'd be surprised if any of them slept again.

"You crazy shucks," a boy laughed disbelievingly as they finally approached the group. Thomas and Minho collapsed on the ground the second they escaped the edge of the maze and Amy had never been so grateful to see grass in all her life.

Newt quickly closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms fiercely around her, pulling her into his chest as he buried his nose in her hair. Amy cried softly, breathing a sigh of relief as she returned the embrace with equal fervor, digging her fingers into the material of his shirt and squeezing, afraid that if she let go he would disappear.

"You're alive," he whispered, quiet and incredulous. As if he wasn't sure if she was really there. "Bloody hell, you're alive," his voice cracked and he held her closer.

Amy felt her eyes well up, vision blurring as she quietly sobbed. She hadn't realized how much she missed him. Never fully comprehended the fact that she surrendered herself into believing she would never see him again. His arms felt like safe houses, holding her and protecting her from all the evils of the world beyond their sanctuary of the Glade.

"Newt," she uttered softly. She tried bringing herself even closer to him, momentarily forgetting that two beings couldn't occupy the same space. As long as she never had to leave his arms again she'd be fine. She'd be okay.

"… the Griever was trapped between the walls… Thomas did it…"

"Dead?"

"Dead."

"Whoa."

Voices came flooding back to Amy's ears and she realized they were talking about the chase. Minho was telling them about how Thomas had lured the beast between the narrowing walls that crushed it. Most seemed impressed by it and hummed their approval. Thomas accepted the praise with modesty. Then someone asked about the state of Alby.

"He got stung didn't he?" Chuck asked sadly. Minho nodded.

"We've gotta take him to Med-Jack," Minho said. Then there was commotion as everyone tried to lend a hand at lifting up their leader. "He hasn't started Changing yet but it's got to be coming soon. We need to be ready when it does."


End file.
